


we are honey and the bee

by soleilouis



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-05
Updated: 2013-07-05
Packaged: 2017-12-17 19:24:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 41,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/871121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soleilouis/pseuds/soleilouis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It isn’t his fault though, it is entirely the fault of whichever gods thought it would be a good idea to taunt Louis by dangling a curly haired boy in front of him with a mouth that can’t possibly be as soft as it looks, a mouth that requires further inspection with Louis’ own mouth. Unfortunately, Louis absolutely cannot do that, because it would go against all rules and guidelines in the Golden Handbook of Nanny and Employee Etiquette that he’s pretty sure exists.</p><p>au where harry plays rugby at uni, louis needs to hire a nanny, and life is one big cliche.<br/> </p>
            </blockquote>





	we are honey and the bee

**Author's Note:**

> i posted [this](http://soleilouis.tumblr.com/post/49831117166/i-need-an-au-where-harry-is-a-nanny-so-bad-i-would), then thought ‘hmm, i should just write that’. so two months later, here it is. i literally could not have done this without my baba [chelsea](http://carryonsunshine.tumblr.com), who listened to me whine daily and talked to me about this fic for over a month, then read every single chunk i wrote and edited happily. i cannot thank you enough. also a big thank you to my own personal cheerleading squad - [ainslie](http://queenmcgonagall.tumblr.com), [kirra](http://punkasslouis.tumblr.com), and [jenna](http://justlourry.tumblr.com), who read this as a WIP and were encouraging and so wonderful, always. the rugby is completely self-indulgent. the z/l is very background. i don’t know anything/own anything/etc and any mistakes are (definitely) my own (especially any wrongly used british-isms). 
> 
> title from owl city’s ‘honey and the bee’.  
> tumblr: soleilouis

“Awake?”

 Louis can feel the weight settle at the foot of the bed before he even hears the soft voice. He’s been meaning to get thick curtains for his bedroom, the ones that block out all of the sunlight. He cracks his eyes open, hoping to avoid being blinded, and realizes that there isn’t any sunlight for his non-existent curtains to block.

  Nope. Absolutely not keeping his eyes open.

 He shuts them quickly, hoping that the curly-headed child, now creeping slowly up the bed, will take the hint.

 Of course, things never seem to work out the way Louis wills them to, which, he thinks, he should know by now.

 “Daddy, you stopped snoring,” she whispers again.

 “Excuse me, little miss, I do not sno- oh, bloody hell,”  Louis groans.

 Well. Using insult to get him to respond. He might even be impressed if she wasn’t waking him up at a time of the morning that he’s pretty sure even birds wince at. If birds could wince, that is.

 The little girl, now inches from Louis’s face, giggles and brings herself close enough to cuddle her small body into his.

 “It’s my first day of big girl school today,” she whispers into his chest.

 “I know that,” he mutters, rubbing a hand on her back, his voice thick with sleep. He clears his throat before continuing, “why are you awake so early, Liv? We don‘t have to leave for almost 3 hours.”

 She falls silent and burrows her face closer to his warm body, some of her blonde curls tickling Louis’s chin.

 “’m scared. My tummy has butterflies.”

 Louis tries to remember how he felt on his first day of primary school, but that was 18 years ago and it’s all a little fuzzy (not because he is old and forgetful, thank you very much).

 “Hmmm,“ Louis hums, letting his lips vibrate against Olivia’s forehead, making her giggle again, “Would a bit of French toast help the butterflies calm down in there, love?”

 “Maybe with extra syrup.”

 And, yeah. Definitely his child. Louis sighs and kisses the top of her head before begrudgingly slipping out of bed and letting his bare feet hit the hardwood floor. He can’t remember the last time he actually got to sleep in. Well, okay, maybe he can. Olivia was almost 5 now, so that would make it somewhere around 5 years since he’s had a full, long night of sleep. There’s always a story to read before bed, a glass of water to get in the middle of the night, or a nervous little girl to wake him up at the crack of dawn.

Searching through the cabinets of pots and pans, Louis remembers that he doesn’t have milk for his tea. _Shit_. Now that he thinks about it, he could probably use a few more things. Like food, perhaps.

“Well c’mon, Ols,” he calls back into the bedroom, “if I’ve gotta be up, so do you.”

++

“Mate, would you mind watching Olivia for an extra hour or so today?”

“Lou-,” something crashes in the background and Louis holds the phone away from his ear waiting for Zayn to settle, “Louis? What the hell, what time is it?”

“Uh, 7:30?”

“For Christ’s sake, this couldn‘t wait until a normal human hour? Yeah mate, that‘s alright. Why?”

Louis thinks that he might be the luckiest person on earth to have a best friend like Zayn. They’ve been each other’s rock since high school, and while most people dropped him 30 seconds after hearing “I’m going to be a dad” when he was 18, Zayn only made himself more prominent in Louis’s life. Zayn might not have a lot about his own life figured out, but he loves Olivia like she’s his own family (and, Louis thinks, she pretty much is by now). He and Zayn always laugh and say it’s a damn shame they never fell in love - it would certainly make things easier, but things are pretty easy for them anyway, if Louis’s honest. They never had to deal with the awkward ‘falling for your best friend’ phase or a drunken hook up (not that Louis didn’t try once after a bit too much vodka).

They’re best friends and have never needed, or wanted, anything else. They clicked from day one when Louis had escaped football practice to get away from the teasing of his teammates and found Zayn smoking in between two school buildings. After that, they stuck together, and that was that.

Louis sighs, “Gotta go grocery shopping. Unless my best friend that I love and adore wants to do it for me.”

“Bye, Lou. Oh wait, tell Ols good luck for today.”

Louis raises his voice a little, “Olivia, Zaynie says good luck on your first day of school.” He angles the phone towards her in the backseat, knowing that she will want to answer loudly enough for Zayn to hear.

“Thanks Zaynie!”

 “I’ll see you when I get home, Z,” Louis says, pulling the phone back to his ear. “Should be around 6 unless I pass out in the grocery store trying to decide which cereal to get. I'm sweating just thinking about it.”

 "Yep, see you then. Love you.”

 “Loooove you tooooo--” Louis only sings for 3 seconds before Zayn is hanging up.

 He looks up to catch a glimpse of wispy blonde curls and watches Olivia in the backseat via his rear view mirror for the entire length of the red light. She’s unusually silent this morning, Louis muses, huffing every few minutes and picking the sequins off of her new shirt to keep her tiny hands busy. Louis smiles and thinks that he could probably watch Olivia, even just sitting in nervous silence, for the rest of his life.

 “All right, love?” he asks after the light turns green, still glancing in the mirror to meet her blue eyes that match his own.

 “Daddy, what if they don’t like me?” Olivia says, so quietly that Louis almost misses her response.

 “They’ll love you. You are cute and sweet, and you’re funny just like your daddy.”

 “You aren’t that funny sometimes.”

 Okay.

 “Hey!” Louis gasps dramatically “I am _very_ funny, bug.”

 “Yeah,” Olivia giggles, “you’re sorta funny.”

 He turns in his seat at the next red light to place a hand on her knee and smile reassuringly. “Hey, I promise. You’ll do great. Remember how much you liked your other school? This will be just like that, only everyone is a little older, just like you! They’ll probably think you’re as great as I think you are, and if they don’t it’s because they’re silly, okay?” He squeezes her knee where he knows she’s ticklish, and she lets out another giggle that Louis swears is cute enough to make the fond look on his face visible from space. Maybe.

 “Okay, Daddy. Love you.”

 “Love you too, Ols.”

 ++

Louis doesn’t pass out at the grocery store, though he does start to feel drops of sweat on his forehead while he’s trying to decide between sugary or healthy cereal (he goes with sugary because, well, he’s 23 and he makes his own decisions, okay?). He hasn’t gone grocery shopping in at least two weeks, so he’s grateful to have Zayn, whom he doesn’t have to pay extra for staying late with Olivia. He isn‘t broke, he does alright working at the OBGYN’s office, but he doesn’t have the money for the ’extras’. Like a night out. Or, apparently, curtains.

 Zayn has always been his go-to for watching Olivia, partly because he’s the only person Louis trusts with the responsibility, and partly because she adores Zayn as much as he adores her. The two boys were partners in crime throughout high school and Louis having Olivia didn‘t change anything. Granted, they had to cut back the “crime” to things a little more domestic, like tag-teaming marathons of _The Backyardigans_ (and how his child can sit through hours of that show without ripping her skin off is something Louis will never understand). Louis was 19 and doe-eyed, with a 6 month old baby, when Zayn suggested they move out of their respective parents’ houses and get apartments next to each other in the city.

Louis got a full-time job at the OBGYN office his mother worked at in London, and they did it. After Olivia was born, college was pretty much off the table, and Louis spent a lot of days nearing a mental breakdown over the fact that he had a child, no degree, and no plans. The doctor his mother works for, Dr. Campbell, took some pity on him. She’s known him since he was a toddler, and decided to let him take over for the front desk receptionist and had him become an overall helping hand in the office. He does alright, financially, but it isn’t exactly what he planned for his life.

He hadn’t made many plans, anyway.

After the move, Zayn got a gig as a bartender/part-time DJ at one of the hottest clubs in London, and works most nights. Zayn watches Olivia during the day while Louis works, and Louis comes home around 5 to take over. They have a stable routine with an even more stable friendship, and it just works for them.

"What does a guy have to do for some help with the groceries? I’m willing to do just about anything,“ Louis yells as he drops the bags of groceries outside the door of his apartment and knocks.

The door opens and Zayn is shirtless, which. Alright.

“If there is another guy in there, I swear to god, you’re fired.”

Zayn laughs and turns around so that Louis can see his back, which is covered in colorful marks. Most likely of the magic marker nature. Hopefully.

“Daddy,” Louis can see the head of blonde curls over the kitchen counter before he even hears Olivia toddling towards the front door to join them. Her face and hands are covered in colors identical to the one’s on Zayn’s back, which Louis should have seen coming, really. “I gave Zaynie more taboos!”

Zayn stifles a laugh and whispers “tattoos, baba” before Louis sighs and steps over the bags of groceries to pick Olivia up in his arms and kiss her marked face.

“I see that, love bug. Let’s get you in the bath so that you can tell me about your first day and we can have dinner, alright?” He places her feet back on the ground and gives her bum a little pat to encourage her to head towards the bathroom, despite her groans of protest. Louis looks back at Zayn pointedly, “You can bring in the groceries since you’ve probably let my kid get fucking ink poisoning.”

“Always one for the dramatics, princess,” Zayn grumbles, but the corners of his mouth quickly turn up into a smile as he bends down to start bringing in the bags.

Later, after Olivia is clean of ink and Zayn has put his shirt back on, they sit down at the table to eat the Totally Edible dinner that Louis put together. Since Louis doesn’t get home until dinner time and Zayn is already there with Olivia, he usually stays to eat something before heading to work for the night at 8. Dinner usually consists of some form of noodles paired with a jar sauce or kraft mac and cheese, because Louis clearly skipped the days that they taught much more than that in his home ec class.

“How was your day?” Louis turns to the small child in her booster seat after they are all settled at the table with their plates. Zayn had texted Louis a quick _just picked up ols, happy and is telling me abt her new friend chelsea : ) xx_ earlier so he knows that things hadn’t been catastrophic, at least.

“Good,” she responds excitedly, and Louis signals for Olivia to finish chewing her mouthful of pasta before continuing, “my teacher is funny and said that she liked my pretty blonde curls! Oh, I met a girl that has a lunchbox just like mine except hers is The Little Mermaid instead of Cinderella which is ok because we’re allowed to like different things right Daddy? And she let me have her ham sandwich and I gave her my yucky tuna sandwich,” Louis scoffs at the blow to his sandwich making skills, but Olivia continues speaking at a mile a minute, “and my teacher said that I can be her special helper because I’m so helpful.”

Olivia finally pauses for a breath, and Louis takes the opportunity to ask a few more questions about her day. He smiles fondly while he listens, reveling in the fact that she seems genuinely happy about her new school. She is still chattering on about her new friend when the phone rings, breaking Louis out of his daze (Zayn calls it his Olivia-trance when he focuses on Olivia and anything else happening around him seems to fade away).

Louis tells them he’ll be right back, but he doesn’t think they hear him. He’ll never mention it, but Zayn has his own Olivia-trance, and he’s listening to her story like it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever heard. Louis makes his way into the kitchen to grab his buzzing cell phone from the counter. Before he answers, he gets a good look at the absolute wreck that is his kitchen, which means he probably won’t be able to crawl into bed before midnight like he‘d hoped.

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this Louis Tomlinson?” the bright, female voice startles him, and he takes a second to pull his phone from his ear and check the number. Not one he recognizes, and definitely not a familiar voice.

“Ehm, yeah, can I ask who’s calling?”

“My name’s Jessica, I was just calling to inquire about the nanny position.”

Louis stares blankly at the magnet-covered fridge for a few beats, pushing his fringe from his forehead, before he hears Jessica clear her throat on the other end.

“I--…I’m sorry? I think you have the wrong number.”

“Well, this is the number that was in the ad. Nanny from 11-5 every weekday, for a 5 year old little girl?”

Louis honestly has no idea what the hell the girl is talking about, and starts, “I’m sorry, love, but I really haven’t put out any ad for a nanny,” before he sees Zayn’s eyes get wide as he nearly chokes on his dinner at the mention of the word ‘nanny‘. Oh.

“Actually... Jessica, is it? Let me call you back tomorrow, I’m right in the middle of dinner,” he rushes the words out before hanging up and making his way back to the table.

“Olivia, are you done?” Louis asks abruptly as he approaches, without taking his blue eyes off of Zayn.

“Mmmhm, very good, Daddy! Can I go play now?”

“Go wash up and then you can go to your room to play.”

Zayn scoots his seat back, mumbles a quick “I’ll go with you, Ols,”, and begins to follow at her heels before Louis’s hands loudly clapping together stops him.

“I just got the _weirdest_  phone call!” Louis says exuberantly, while Zayn turns slowly back around. He looks like a puppy that’s just been caught chewing up the sheets with the highest thread count.

“Is that so?”

Louis hums in response and takes his seat back at the table, clearly waiting for Zayn to join him.

"What - uh, what was weird about it?” Zayn timidly lowers himself back into his seat, and begins to push the food left on his plate around with his fork.

"Well, it was a female calling, which was weird enough,” Zayn lets out laugh at that, but it comes out as more of a ragged breath, “saying that she wanted to ask about the nanny position. Which. Weird, right? Because I haven’t put out an ad for a nanny.” He pauses, raising one eyebrow, “Isn’t that weird, Zayn?”

Zayn crumbles whenever he’s interrogated for more than 5 seconds, which is exactly what Louis is counting on.  It’s no surprise when Zayn sighs and looks up at the ceiling, clearly accepting defeat.

 "Alright, mate. I--...I might have put an ad online for you, to help you find a nanny.” Louis immediately opens his mouth to protest or call him a wanker, but Zayn continues, “Just hear me out alright?”

 Louis huffs and Zayn takes it as an invitation to explain himself.

 “I just-- look. I got a job offer, a really good one, but it‘s - it’s like. Full time…meaning during the day. And I was waiting to tell you because I didn’t want to just leave you high and dry without someone to watch Ols because I would never do that and if you can’t find someone else that you’re comfortable with I’ll stick with my bartending gig and it’ll be fine, _so_ fine, I would be happy but I wanted to help and I thought maybe you could just interview a few people for the hell of it and see if there was anyone you liked enough to let them try it out and it would only be 5 days a week and I put the weekly pay as what you pay me so it wouldn’t really be more expensive and--”

 “Z, take a fucking breath,” Louis finally interrupts, looking up at the ceiling as he pinches the bridge of his nose. Well, this was news.

 He had no idea that Zayn was looking for a day job, but it makes sense. Working the night shift 6 days a week for 5 years hasn’t exactly been a piece of cake. Zayn is hardworking and intelligent enough to do something more with his life, and suddenly Louis is overwhelmed, because Zayn would be willing to say no to a great opportunity just to make sure that Louis and Olivia are okay and comfortable, and. Yeah. Louis is lucky to have a best mate like Zayn.

 “What’s the job?”

 Zayn lights up momentarily, before clearing his throat and trying and failing to keep his face neutral. “Well, you know Perrie?”

 Louis does. She’s a waitress at the bar Zayn DJ and bartends at, with bright pink hair and piercing blue eyes and a personality that Louis thinks he will never get bored of. Perrie and Zayn have been close for the last year or so, so Louis doesn’t know why he even asks. He gives a look to express this, and Zayn nods.

 “Right, yeah. Well, her dad is like, pretty important at this record label in the heart of London, and they were looking for someone to work on production of backing tracks? So she kind of told him that she had a friend that was a DJ and really had a knack for music, and after I went in and met with him, he liked me enough I guess. It seems like a sick job, mate.”

 Louis watches Zayn grow more excited as he talks, and he momentarily feels hurt that he wasn’t let in on this new development in his best friend’s life. His face must show exactly that, because Zayn scoots closer to the table and doesn’t let Louis say what he’s thinking before he continues.

 “And before you get all pissy, I didn’t tell you because like I said, I really didn’t want to freak you out and leave you with nobody to watch Olivia. I know you hate depending on anyone else.”

 Zayn knows better than Louis even knows himself, but it doesn’t take a genius to know that what Zayn is saying is right. Louis has never liked to ask anyone for help, and the only reason he gets help from Zayn is because he’s never had to ask.

 Louis sighs, but lets the corners of his mouth pull up into a smile. “So, big shot, you’ll be able to get me in to meet Jay-Z, right?”

 Zayn drops the previous charade of staying neutral and lets his face split into a grin. Louis thinks he might break his sculpted, tan face right in half. “Really, mate? I promise, if you can’t find someone you are 100% comfortable with, I won’t do it, okay? I promise you that.”

 “There’s gotta be somebody better than you out there, right?” Louis chuckles, and latches an arm around Zayn’s neck to pull him into his side.

 ++

 On Tuesday, he returns Jessica’s call, and she sounds sweet enough that he asks her to come by the apartment for an interview. Louis gets 3 more calls before he settles into bed for the night, which overwhelms him a bit, and sets up 4 interviews for Wednesday night after he gets home.

  Zayn calls in sick from work so that he’s able to stay late, keeping Olivia occupied while Louis conducts the “interviews” (he feels like a Very Posh business man, perhaps he should get a suit for this), and listening in to get a feel for the girls as well. Two of them are college students, one is two years older than Louis, and one is in her late thirties. Louis isn’t too sure he wants someone that is that much older than him, but he told Zayn he would give everyone a chance, so.

 Turns out, finding someone that fits Louis’s standards is not a simple task. (“Wow, Lou, who would’ve thought _you_ would be high-maintenance?” Zayn had joked before getting a pillow to the face). Zayn and Louis sit at the kitchen table later that night, well after Olivia has gone to bed, to look over the notes taken about each girl.

 “What was wrong with Jessica?” Zayn asks, holding up the page.

 Louis makes a face, “I don’t know. I just didn’t get a good vibe. She just seemed….too perky? Like Perrie, but not in a fun-bubbly-wow-you’re-cute way. Like I would want to kick her out every night when I got home,” he sighs, “I'd like to have someone that I’d want hanging out with me or Olivia even if they aren’t working. And, y’know, I want them to be, like, a friend. I mean, that's the only reason I trusted you with her.”

 “You right sap,” Zayn mocks while clutching his heart, “alright, what about Anna?”

 Louis looks up from his own page of notes to glare at Zayn. Anna is the other college student, who came in after Jessica. Louis had been getting a great vibe from her, and she seemed laid-back and fun. Olivia had run in from her bedroom about 10 minutes into their chat and said hello to the older girl, before turning to Louis and whispering “Daddy, she smells like Zaynie!”. It had taken a minute for him to realize what that meant exactly, but when Louis sniffed the air again, he smelled the undeniable scent of weed.

 If he slammed the door a little bit too hard after her interview, well. Who the hell comes to an interview smelling like they just smoked a joint? Honestly.

 Zayn is in a fit of hysterics over Louis‘s facial expression, and has to put his hand over his mouth to calm himself down. “Alright, a big no to Anna. Could‘ve been fun for me,” he winks, and Louis tosses a ball of paper into his face.

 The other two women had been pleasant enough, but for some reason Louis just didn’t get the feeling that they would be who he could trust. More importantly, he didn’t feel like they had any sort of connection with Olivia. She’s a very happy and welcoming little girl, but the thought of spending every day from 11-5 with someone who wasn’t her “fun uncle Zaynie” is daunting for her, he can tell.  He wants to make this easier on her, as well. Louis groans.

 “Lou, don’t get discouraged. Let me check my email, maybe someone has replied there.”

 Zayn pulls out his iPhone and scrolls quietly while Louis shuffles from the living room to Olivia’s door to peek in and make sure she’s alright. And, y’know, still breathing.

 “Mr. Tomlinson, I was wondering if you were still looking for a half-day nanny. I’m 21, a college student with experience working in a daycare, and have an open schedule after 10:30 am. If you’re still in need of someone, I’m interested. I don’t know if you’re doing interviews, but if so, shoot me back an email and I can meet whenever is convenient for you,” Zayn reads out quietly, careful not to wake Olivia.

 “Hmm, they didn’t give a name?”

 “No, but I should reply right? I can tell them to come by for an interview tomorrow at 7, just like we did today. We’ll check them out through the peephole before letting them come in, or something. If they look like a serial killer, we’ll act like we aren’t here.”

 Louis smiles fondly at Zayn for a moment while his back is still turned to him, happy that his best friend is so willing to participate in every step of this with him.

 “Yeah, why not. 7 tomorrow.”

 ++

 Louis is doing the dishes from dinner on Thursday night when there’s a knock at the door. Olivia is in her room, wrapped up in blankets, watching an episode of Dora the Explorer for what has to be the 6th time. Louis had given her a hug and kiss already, just in case the interview ran over and she fell asleep before he could squeeze in to say goodnight. 

 “Mate, could you do the serial-killer check? I’ve gotta finish these or I never will.”

 Zayn groans dramatically before pulling himself off of the couch and heading towards the door. He’s eye-level with the peep hole, and takes a second to look before pulling back and stifling laughter.

 “Oh, this will be good,” Louis swears he hears Zayn mumble, before the door is opened and the apparently Not A Serial Killer is let into Louis’s apartment.

 He finishes the last of the dishes in under a minute, and wipes the soapy water from his hands onto the dish towel hanging from the oven door before making his way into the living room. He’s met by Zayn, who looks to be on the verge of bursting into giggles at any moment, and. A boy. A tall, pretty….boy.

 “Zayn, I don’t think now is such a great time for company, since we’re about to have someone by for an interview.” 

Zayn is almost doubled over now, clearly suppressing the laughter bubbling up in his gut. 

“Right. Hi,” the tall boy speaks, and his voice is so deep and. Oh. Louis averts his eyes from Zayn to look into the face of the boy speaking. “I’m - I’m, uh, Harry. Harry Styles. I’m the someone here for an interview.” 

If Louis’s jaw isn’t on the floor, it’s truly a feat to be noted. 

“I’m sorry?” 

“I’m the one that emailed you? About an interview? The nanny job? If you aren’t looking anymore, that’s fine, I figured maybe one of the other-”

 “You’re not a girl.” Louis blurts out, as if he has no filter from his brain to his mouth, and Zayn can’t contain himself anymore. He lets out a bark of laughter and moves past the tall boy, apparently known as Harry, to plop down onto the couch. 

Harry laughs a little awkwardly, and shoves a hand through his curly hair. “Right.”

“You’re a boy, and you are here for an interview….to be a nanny for my child?”

Harry laughs again, this time a bit incredulously, “Right again, mate.”

“Louis didn’t go to college, give him some time,” Zayn pipes up from the couch, earning a glare in his direction from Louis and a giggle out of Harry. He actually giggles.

“I don’t mean to be, like, rude, it’s just-- aren't you…not normally the gender of a nanny?”

“What’s wrong with a male nanny? It’s like a protective older brother or something. ‘s cool.”

Harry is shuffling his feet - oh god, his feet are huge - and Louis suddenly feels like he’s being a twat. But. Okay, when he decided to accept an extra pair of  hands, he didn’t expect them to be large, rough, or manly. Some dainty and soft hands, maybe even complete with painted fingernails, would have worked just fine.

“Like a manny, Lou. A male nanny.” Zayn chimes in again, earning yet another giggle out of Harry, and then they‘re all laughing.

Louis sighs and gestures towards the small table just off the edge of the living room, “Well, alright. Let’s get on with it then. I‘m Louis, as you know. I actually didn‘t email you, that would be him,” he gestures again, this time to Zayn, who has stayed in the living room and turned on the TV to make it seem like he isn’t completely eavesdropping on the interview, “he put out the ad for me. He’s my best friend that lives next door, and just got a new job so he won’t be able to watch Olivia for me anymore. Hence all of this.” Louis moves his hands around wildly, referring to the interview and nanny search.

Harry nods as they sit down, and Louis starts by asking Harry to tell him a little bit about himself and sharing a little bit about Olivia and the job description. They talk for a while and conversation flows easily. Turns out that the tall boy is from Cheshire, but moved to London for university, where he’s just started his senior year.

“I took a lot of extra credits my junior year and last summer, so I only have to take 2 classes each semester for my final year. One is online, and the other is done by 10:30 every morning,” he explains when Louis quirks up one eyebrow at the mention of classes, “I figured I might as well try to find a job too since I don’t have a busy schedule. And I don’t really want a, like, corporate job and I especially don’t want to come home every night smelling like burgers.”

“So, clearly, being a nanny is the next best option.” Louis lets it pass through his lips before he can stop himself, but luckily Harry just laughs. Or, giggles, really. Whatever.

“Nah, my mom was a nanny all through college, and then started running her own daycare when she graduated, so she knew I had experience from working there with her and that being a nanny was good for her in college. I figured it was worth a shot. Plus, it would be nice to, like, enjoy my job.”

Louis shoots a glance to Zayn in the living room, who is giving him a thumbs up and nodding, like he’s the moderator. Louis just rolls his eyes and turns back to Harry. While the conversation continues, he looks Harry over to take in the younger boy’s appearance, which he didn’t get a chance to do earlier because he was too concerned with the fact that Harry didn’t have boobs or soft lips. Okay, the last part wasn’t true. Harry has softer looking lips than any girl he’s ever seen, if he’s honest. Not letting his mind dwell too much longer on that, he takes in the green eyes and brown curly hair that’s been pushed into some sort of ridiculous floppy quiff from Harry running his hand through it nervously so many times. He’s wearing a white button up, buttoned to the tippity-top, just like Louis wears his own dress shirts. The rest of him is casual, with a pair of dark wash skinny jeans and white converse. Louis must be taking too long to respond, because he sees Harry shuffling his feet again. God, what size shoe does this kid wear?

“Alright, well. It’s good that you have some experience at least. Drink or smoke?”

Louis thinks this is probably a good interview question. He’s struggling just a bit to remember his notes.

“Never touched a cigarette, and don’t smoke anything else. I’m a social drinker because I play rugby and we like to kick back with a few beers after games, but. I would never drink the night before working or anything like that.”

“You play rugby?” Louis’s response comes out more skeptical than curious, but it’s muffled by Zayn jumping up from the couch and nearly shouting, “Rugby?”.

“Where do you play?” Zayn asks when he drops down into the third chair at the table, apparently part of this interview now.

“Started in secondary, but now I play for University College London. I’ve played every year since I was 16. My roommate plays too, that’s how we met.”

“You live on campus?” Louis cuts in, hoping to bring things back into interview territory.

Harry shakes his head, “Nah. We were roommates on campus for the first couple of years but we decided to splurge on an apartment for senior year. We’re just a few blocks away, actually. He’s a riot. Name’s Niall.”

Louis hums in response, and lets Zayn and Harry chat about rugby while he gets up to grab them each a soda and gather his thoughts so far.

He gets the right vibe from Harry, but he can’t see how it will even work to have a male nanny. Plus, although it shouldn't matter, if Harry knew that Louis wasn’t exactly straight (meaning, not at all straight), he might run for the hills. Not that Harry seems like that kind of person, at least from what he can tell in the 20 minutes he‘s been talking with him, but some people are weirded out by that shit, Louis thinks. Hell, not everyone is okay with a gay man raising a child in the first place.

The Big Story of Olivia and her mother isn’t something he can casually throw into an interview (or something he tells many people), so Louis will just have to trust his gut and leave that for another time. He just hopes he's right in thinking it won't matter either way, and that Harry won't care when it does inevitably come up. Louis gulps at the thought.

When he returns to the table, he can’t help but feel like he’s not conducting an interview anymore. He feels like he’s sitting around after a long day of work with a couple of friends, which is essentially the vibe he wanted to get from someone. It takes a lot for Louis to trust Olivia’s well-being in someone’s hands other than his own, and getting along with this nanny, regardless of gender, is really important to him.

They’ve been talking for a bit when he hears the pitter patter of tiny feet on the hardwood floor. He glances at the clock and realizes that it’s already 9 o’clock. Maybe they’d been talking longer than he thought.

“Da?”

"Yeah, bug, come here.” Louis puts his can of soda on the table and turns in his seat to face his daughter, who is now emerging from the bedroom dragging a blanket along with her.  

 He was almost hoping that Olivia hadn’t fallen asleep yet, because he wanted to see interaction between Harry and the, now very tired, 5 year old. Obviously he couldn’t base everything off of a first conversation that lasted a few minutes, but he would be able to tell if the pair would hit it off within a few seconds.

 “Daddy, he has curly hair like me!” Olivia nearly shrieks, dropping her blanket and rushing to Harry‘s side of the table. Well then.

 Harry looks at Louis before he smiles and bends down to bring his face almost level with hers. “I’m gonna take a guess and say that you’re Olivia.”

 “Can I touch your curls?” she asks quietly, and Louis brings his palm up to cover his face while Harry and Zayn both laugh.

 Harry doesn’t hesitate before bending down further to let Olivia’s tiny hand run through his mess of curls, and she gapes at him like she’s watching puppies play. It’s ridiculous, really, how cute she is.

 “Daddy he is very pretty,” she turns and stage-whispers to Louis, causing him to nearly choke on the coke he just took a sip of. Zayn absolutely loses it and Harry blushes wildly before letting out a laugh, too.

 “Ols, this is Harry. Harry, this is Olivia. She’s just about to go to bed, but I’m glad you two could meet.”

 “I can’t sleep,” she frowns, “You didn’t read me the story tonight.”

 Louis has been reading her the same story every night since she turned 4, and it had become the absolute bane of his existence - there’s only so many times that he can act surprised that the dog makes it out of the evil farmer’s trap. He was hoping to get out of it tonight, but apparently his luck is shit. He sighs and starts to get up when Harry’s voice stops him.

 “Um, I don’t mean to overstep a line or anything, but I could. If-- Uh, if you want me to?”

 Zayn looks to Louis with a shit-eating grin and raises one eyebrow.

 “Sure, mate, that would be ace, actually. The book is next to her bed--”

 “I’ll show him, Daddy!” Olivia grins, pulling on Harry’s hand to lead him to her bedroom.           

 When the two have disappeared into the room, Louis looks to Zayn to find that he is still wearing the same knowing expression. Louis groans and whispers “don’t”, before grabbing his now empty can along with Harry’s and getting up from the table to take them to the recycling bin. Zayn follows him, because of course he does.

 “Oh come on, Lou. You know he’s great. He’s a real lad, and he seems to be getting on with Ols just fine. Plus, he’s even got experience. You like him, admit it.”

 They’re still whispering, because the house is silent aside from the low rumble of the television in the living room.

 “I do, he seems great. Don’t you think it’s a little weird that he’s a guy though?

 Zayn shakes his head and shrugs. “Like an older brother, just like he said. Plus, _I’m_ a guy, if you haven‘t noticed. ’s what Olivia’s used to anyway.”

 Louis hadn’t even thought of that, but Zayn is right. Louis would’ve liked to have a female figure to be there for Olivia, but she’s never seemed to have a problem with it, and understands more than a normal 5 year old would. Louis thinks he has a pretty great kid, but he might be a bit biased.

 “That’s true. I don’t know,“ Louis runs a small hand over his face, then looks back to Zayn, “Think I should just say fuck it, and give him a shot?”

 “Can’t hurt. Just hire him and tell him that if you start feeling weird about anything, you’ll let him know early on.”

 Louis nods and heads back towards the table. At the same time, Harry is coming out of Olivia’s room and Louis is shocked at how tall he really is. At least a head taller than Louis, and Louis isn’t tiny. He isn’t.

 “Well, I think it‘s safe to say you‘ve got the job, mate, if you’re comfortable with everything. I’m kind of picky and a little high-maintenance,” Zayn scoffs but Louis continues, “so if anything seems off in the first couple of weeks I’ll have to let you go.”

 Louis is trying to sound like a Boss, but Harry is smiling now, with deep dimples that Louis didn’t notice before. Huh.

 “Yeah, mate, sounds great. Thanks.”

 They discuss the schedule for a bit longer, and Harry is set to pick Olivia up at her school at 11 the next day, Friday, and bring her back to the apartment to stay until Louis gets home (Harry could have waited until Monday to start, but this way if anything goes horribly wrong, Louis has the weekend to try to find someone else). A part of him feels like it’s almost too good to be true. This process went rather quickly, and he can’t help but feel like he’s just throwing his kid into a shark tank. Sensing his sudden uneasiness, Zayn squeezes his shoulder and sends him a quick smile.

 “And if you aren’t careful with that little princess, I’ll kick your skinny ass,” Zayn adds later after Louis has briefly told Harry his set of house rules, and they all laugh.

 “I really think it’ll be fine. I promise I’m good with kids. And if there’s anything you don’t like or want me to do differently, just tell me. You’re the boss.”

 See, Louis thinks, he could totally be a boss.

 They exchange phone numbers and Harry heads out with a wave, and a promise to get Zayn tickets to his next rugby game. Once the door is shut, Louis and Zayn both let out a sigh of relief and look at each other before heading into the living room to collapse on opposite ends of the couch.

 “So, not too bad, I think.” Louis says after they watch TV for a few minutes, and Zayn moves over to his side of the couch, lifting Louis’s arm and fitting himself into the older boy’s side.

 “I like him, and I don’t like most people. He’s quite fit too, yeah?” Zayn waggles his eyebrows suggestively. Louis smacks Zayn’s arm and laughs, but his voice is stern when he speaks.

 “Don’t even think about it.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, I swear. I’m just saying. Don’t act like you aren’t going to obsessively stalk his facebook after I leave.”

"Zayn, that’s because he is going to be taking care of my _child_ and it’ll be research.”

 They laugh and fix their eyes back to the TV, both of them starting to drift off into sleep after a while. Louis eventually shoves Zayn off and tells him to go to his own place, for Christ’s sake, and says goodbye to his best friend for the night. It’s midnight before he crawls into bed, finally wrapping himself in the duvet and letting his mind race with all of the possible bad scenarios that could take place tomorrow. But if he’s honest, he feels pretty good about this, which is a little alarming. Something about Harry seems trustworthy, and he thinks Olivia will really like him. He reminds Louis of a kitten a little bit, which is unrelated but worth noting.

 And if he spends an hour looking through Harry’s facebook before falling asleep, it’s just a bit of that Professional Research, really.

 ++ 

Louis is an absolute fucking wreck. He knows it, and apparently, so does everyone in the office. By 3PM, he’s over-booked 3 patients for the following Monday morning and had to call  them to reschedule, spilled coffee on an expectant mother, and called the same expectant mother ‘sir’. His _own_ mother is one step away from telling him to go the hell home, but she has instead been sending Louis a sad yet reassuring smile every 30 minutes.

 "Honey, why don't you just take a 10 minute break? Give the new nanny a call, it'll make you feel better," his mother finally says, smoothing his fringe back. "Although, I'm sure if something was wrong, he would call."

 Louis had shown his vulnerable side to her this morning over their morning coffee when he wondered aloud if this really was the best idea. She had been sweet and understanding, as always, and made Louis feel more confident in his decision to finally let someone other than Zayn help him for a change.

 Louis sighs and nods, pulling his phone from the pocket of his scrubs while he steps outside for some air. This is one of those times that he almost regrets saying ‘no thanks, mate’ when Zayn had offered him a cigarette during that first conversation in between the school buildings. Almost. He’s a young father, so worrying is practically his middle name, but it’s different today than it usually is when Olivia is with Zayn. Her school has half days for the youngest classes, so she’s been with Harry for at least 4 hours now. He’d gotten a text at 11 on the dot, letting him know that they were about to be en route to his apartment and that Olivia’s day had been just as good as the rest of her first week. 

Louis is met with laughter and a breathy hello when Harry picks up after a few rings. “Hey mate, just checking up on you guys. How’s the first day going?”

 More laughter. “Hiiiii, ‘s good, really good. She’s a hoot, y’know that?” It’s Louis’s turn to laugh, because yeah, he does.

 “She’s somethin’. So, no problems? Did she have lunch?”

“Yep. We both had some dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets. Gourmet, that.”

Louis’ lips pull into a soft smile. Although he still feels like he’s about to jump off  the nearest cliff, knowing that things are all right back at home is pushing that cliff a little closer to the ground. Maybe like, 10 or 20 feet off the ground, at most. He can handle that, Louis thinks. His ankles are not dainty, no matter what Zayn says, and he could probably make it just fine without any sprains.

Louis is reminded that he’s still on the phone when he hears Olivia’s laughter in the background, and Harry telling her that he’ll be right there.

"Well I won’t keep you, just wanted to make sure you two hadn’t killed each other yet.”

“Nah. I let her listen to Justin Bieber all the way home, so I think we’re proper buds now or something,” Harry says triumphantly, like making friends with a 5 year old is his greatest accomplishment yet.

Louis barks out a laugh and shakes his head. “Sounds like you’re in, mate. I’ll see you guys in a couple of hours.”

When he hangs up, he stares at his phone for a few minutes before pocketing it. If anything was going to put him at ease, it was Harry, apparently. Walking back into the office, Louis thinks there’s a chance Zayn was right about this whole thing (not that he would ever let him know that).

++

Louis fumbles with his keys for a solid 2 minutes before getting the front door open (goddamnit why does he even need 10 keys?), and is met with complete silence. Like, could-hear-a-pin-drop silence. He tentatively toes his shoes off and kicks them out of the way.

"I’m home!” he shouts towards Olivia’s bedroom, and lets 20 seconds pass in silence while he waits for a response. Usually, Olivia is standing at the door as soon as he walks in, since she knows what the clock looks like when Louis is about to be home. It takes about .3 seconds for Louis’ heartrate to quicken, and he begins to run through every possible scenario containing kidnapping and death. He moves quickly through the kitchen and starts making his way towards Olivia’s room. “Ols? Olivia!”

He makes it halfway through the living room before two figures, one very tall and one small and petite, pop up from behind the loveseat.

“Aaaaah!” they both yell in unison, and Louis does not shriek. He just doesn’t.

He doubles over and takes a few deep breaths while Harry and Olivia cackle wildly, giving eachother a high five, before the small child is running from behind the sofa to hug Louis’ leg.

“Did we scare you? I told Cucumber that we should scare you and you were really scared huh," she giggles as he scoops her up in his arms and gives her a tight hug. "You screamed just like me, Daddy!”

Louis puts Olivia back on her feet and holds up a hand in mock horror. “First of all, I did not scream like a little girl, if that is what you’re trying to say. Second of all, you told who?”

Harry shuffles out from behind the sofa, nearly tripping on his own two feet, and Olivia waves a tiny hand in his direction. 

“His name is _Harry_ , love,” Louis looks questioningly between the two. 

“Harry isn’t a vegetable, though,” she responds matter of factly, as if that will make things clear. She’s looking at him with expectant eyes and huffs when Louis doesn’t seem to follow. “He calls me Olive and I don't know why, but Harry is not a vegetable like Olive. I call him Cucumber so we match. Get it, Daddy?” She’s giggling now, and Louis looks up to see Harry smiling down at her. Louis doesn't mention that he is pretty sure neither of those are technically vegetables. 

“I see, bug. Why don’t you go wash up and let me and Ha-- uh, _Cucumber_ talk for a bit, ok? I’ll come and get you when it’s time for dinner,” Louis bends down to give the top of her head a kiss and watches as she walks towards the bathroom. 

He turns to Harry and says with a smirk, “So. I see that she already has you wrapped around her finger,” because it’s true. He can see in Harry’s eyes The Look that anyone gets when they spends more than 10 minutes with Olivia. She’s pretty spectacular, in Louis’ humble opinion, and she has a way of getting attached to people easily, which doesn't seem to be a problem because chances are that they're already attached to her, too. 

Harry laughs and sits down on the couch. "Looks like it. I was worried she wouldn’t, like, be alright with me? I know she’s really close with your mate, and I thought she might resent me a bit. Plus it was only the first day,” he runs a hand through his hair, which is styled in the accidental quiff again today, “but we had a lot of fun.” 

Louis smiles and asks if Harry wants anything to drink before heading into the kitchen. When he turns back to walk into the living room after grabbing two sodas from the fridge, he notices that the kitchen is clean. Like, spotless, actually. And smells faintly of lemons. Huh. It hadn’t been a disaster, because Louis had cleaned the majority of it after Harry left last night, but there had been dishes in the sink from Olivia’s french toast this morning, and he knows that he left some egg shells on the counter before he rushed out.

 “Did you -...did you _clean my kitchen_?” Louis asks when he tosses Harry a can of soda.

 “Erm, might have?” Louis rolls his eyes and Harry laughs awkwardly, “Yeah, sorry. I have, like, a really bad habit of cleaning everything.”

 “That is literally the worst bad habit I’ve ever heard, if I’m honest,” Louis deadpans and takes a sip of his drink before continuing, “but you really don’t have to clean or anything like that.”

 “Nah, I know. I honestly just like to clean when I’ve got nothing to do. Olivia was working on her homework, so I just. Y’know,” Harry gestures towards the kitchen.

 They chat about how the first day went for a while, and Louis can’t help but think that this should feel weird. It should feel awkward and boring and like he hasn’t known Harry for more than 24 hours. But, for some reason, it really, really doesn’t. It feels easy and natural like it does when he talks to Zayn and, well. Louis’ not sure how hopeful he should be about that.

Harry tosses back the last of his soda before looking at his watch and standing. “Well, I don’t want to rush out, but I promised my roommate I’d eat dinner with him tonight. If I leave it to him, something in my apartment will wind up engulfed in flames.”

Louis stands and reaches out to take Harry’s empty can, “No that’s fine, mate. I gotta whip up some dinner for the two of us anyway.” He tosses the cans into the trash bin on the way to the front door, where Harry is now putting his shoes on. Louis notices that Harry apparently had Olivia take her shoes off right at the front door, as they were carefully placed in the small spot Louis tried to designate for her shoes. He smiles fondly at Harry’s effort and looks up to find Harry looking back at him wearing a similar expression.

 Louis clears his throat and starts to open the front door. “So, I was thinking that I could pay you, uh, every other week or something if that’s cool? So, like, next Friday I’d give you your first cheque.”

 Harry is still smiling at him, and nods, “Yeah, that works, mate. Hey, thanks....again for picking me. I know you were, like, really nervous,” Louis raises one eyebrow and Harry chuckles, “Zayn told me.”

 “Bastard” Louis mumbles under his breath before shaking his head, “Yeah, it’s just because I’ve never let anyone else watch her, y’know, besides Zayn. But you’re great. With her, I mean.” They smile at each other for another beat before Harry shuffles out the door and says a quick goodbye. Okay, Louis thinks, the first day wasn’t a disaster. Maybe this will be okay after all.

 It is, as it turns out, pretty okay. The next few weeks go by with only two freak outs from Louis. They’re minor, _totally_ mature freak outs. The first one occurs the second week, when Louis is giving Olivia her nightly bath and finds a bump on her forehead. He immediately calls Harry and frantically asks what happened. Apparently, she had just bumped it on the counter (“she didn’t even cry!”), but Harry apologized profusely and promised to alert Louis of any further injuries. The next week, on Wednesday, Louis found a cigarette in between the couch cushions and asked Olivia where it came from, who had only shrugged and continued playing with her dolls. Louis called Harry, because how dare he lie about smoking?, but is quickly reminded that his best friend smokes (“I saw Zayn smoking outside the apartment on Monday when I left, maybe it was his? I swear I would never, Louis”). So, maybe Louis will stop doubting Harry. Maybe.

 When Louis arrives home every day, Harry and Olivia are usually in the middle of laughing about something or playing in her room. Harry sticks around for bit after Louis gets home, giving him some time to get settled and hear about their day. The house is never anything less than spotless, thanks to Harry, which is a nice bonus. The three of them fall into a natural routine; Harry never forgets to text Louis when he picks up Olivia right at 11AM and her homework is always done before snack time. Harry also seems to get closer to the little girl every day. Louis watches them every now and then, and wonders how the two of them could possibly be so in-sync after only a few weeks together, but he’s not complaining in the slightest.

 It’s like Harry’s her older brother or best friend. Louis gets it, he guesses, because he’s pretty sure he can call Harry a friend now, too. To be honest, this couldn’t be going better if he had dreamed it up, in an alternate universe where Louis dreams about having to find a nanny. Zayn has been at his new job for two weeks and is loving it, which makes all of this that much more worth it. He comes home every day at the same time as Louis, and still joins them for dinner on most nights, telling stories about what new artist he got to meet that day or what cool new things he’s learning. Olivia indulges almost every detail about her day with “Cucumber” (the name stuck, much to Harry and Louis’ amusement) and they all, really, are doing just fine. Louis feels like the lead in a very cheesy family sitcom.

 It’s a Friday, and Louis is beat. He’s had what seems like the longest day of his life at work, and just wants to put his feet up and drink a beer. 

 “Guys, I’m hooooome.” he sing-songs as he walks in the front door, and is immediately met with two tiny arms wrapping around his legs, and laughter muffled into his thigh.

 “Daddy, me and Cucumber had the best day!”

 Louis picks Olivia up and gives her face a few quick, messy kisses before putting her back down.

 “Did you? Hey, Haz,” Louis calls, looking up to see Harry stumbling into the kitchen from the living room carrying two plates.

 Harry lets his dimples show momentarily before ducking into the kitchen to place the plates in the sink and turning to face where Louis is standing in the entryway of the apartment, “We did, tell your dad about what we made, Olive.”

 Olivia squeals and runs into her bedroom, leaving the two boys in the silence of the kitchen. Louis gives Harry a questioning look, but Harry puts a finger to his smiling lips and turns back to the sink of dishes.

 “Look, Da!” The bouncing curls come back into view a second later, when Olivia shuffles back into the kitchen holding a circle of flowers tied together by the stems, “Me and Cucumber made flower crabs!”

 Harry barks out a laugh before clapping a hand over his mouth and giggling. He lowers his hand and nods. “Flower _crowns_ , but, yeah. We went out to the courtyard for a bit because it was so nice outside.”

 Louis watches Olivia excitedly situate the crown on top of her curls and she twirls in a circle.

 He whistles, and shouts,“Stunning! Marvelous! Beautiful!” She giggles, and Louis finally toes off his white work sneakers and lets out an exaggerated groan of relief.

 Harry is drying off his hands at the sink, and turns his head in Louis’ direction. “Long day?”

 “The longest. Did you know that women are insufferable when they’ve been sitting in a hot waiting room for an hour?”

 Harry chuckles, “I did, actually. Sorry, mate. At least it’s Friday.”

 Louis pumps his fist in the air in victory, making Harry laugh (he seems to do that a lot), and walks over to the cabinet to find something to make for dinner.

 “Ols, what do you want for dinner, babe?” he calls towards the living room, where

Olivia has sat herself in the recliner and pulled out a picture book to look through.

 “Cucumber should stay for dinner, Daddy!”

 “Not really what I asked, but,” Louis mutters before turning to Harry, “Don’t feel, like, obligated, but yeah you’re welcome to have dinner with us. If you want, I mean. Zayn will probably pop in after. But, wait, Niall will probably expect you home to make dinner, so it’s fine if you don’t--”

 “Depends on what you’re cooking, to be honest,” Harry interrupts smugly, and Louis glares at him and huffs, before Harry smiles widely, “I’m kidding, mate. Niall’s out tonight with some of our rugby team, so I was just gonna grab some fast food. Plus, I’m pretty sure a college kid never says no to a free meal. As long as you don’t care.”

 Louis smiles, “Just figured you might not want to stay at work longer than you had to. Can’t promise the food won’t be shit though.”

 “Doesn’t really feel like work, mate. What were you going to make?”

Louis’ face drops and he groans, “Well, now that I think about it, I haven’t been grocery shopping in a couple of weeks. But uh,” he moves over to the cabinet and looks through it for a moment before pulling out two boxes of Hamburger Helper and shrugging, “I’ve got some ground beef I need to use anyway.”

Harry gives Louis a thumbs up before moving back into the living room to keep Olivia occupied while Louis fixes dinner.

“Y’know,” Harry calls from his spot on the couch when Louis is setting the table, “if you left me a list, or like, told me what to get, I could go grocery shopping for you. Take Olive with me.” Louis sets Olivia’s princess plate at her designated place at the table, and looks up to see the sincerity Harry’s face. He isn’t offering it to be a suck up, Louis thinks, he’s genuinely just trying to help. Christ.

“I couldn’t make you do that, Harry--”

“No, it could be fun! The little monster will help me, won’t she?” Harry bends down to tickle Olivia, who is now sprawled on the floor watching TV, and she laughs shrilly before agreeing, if only to make him stop. He picks her up and carries the small child into the kitchen, lowering her carefully into her booster seat before settling in his own spot at the table. Louis brings over the pot of Hamburger Helper and places it on a pot holder in the center of the table, then drops into his own seat next to Olivia.

“Well, dig in,” Louis says when Harry just stares at the pot, “You aren’t exactly a guest here anymore. Hope you don’t expect me to serve you. Last time I checked _you_ work for _me_.”

Harry fish-mouths for a second, before breaking out into a giggle when Louis smiles and rolls his eyes. Louis is still not over the fact that a giggle is something that comes out of Harry’s mouth. Often.

The boy continues laughing while he gestures for Louis to get his food first, and Louis doesn’t bother to argue before making Olivia’s plate and then his own. Harry finally makes a plate for himself, and hums in approval when he takes his first bite.

“Oh shut up, you. It isn’t that good,” Louis pokes his fork in Harry’s direction and the younger boy holds his hands up in defense.

“It is too! Isn’t it, Olive?” Harry turns to Olivia, who agrees, nodding zealously.

Louis sighs and mumbles a quick thank you before putting another bite into his mouth. The three of them chat between bites, the conversation moving easily between Louis complaining about his day and Olivia and Harry telling him about theirs. Harry nods along with Olivia’s stories, chiming in when she forgets the word for something or can’t remember what they did next. It’s like they finish each other’s sentences, and Louis is almost freaked out by it, honestly. It’s been about a month, sure, but. God.

Louis’ watches Harry while he talks to Olivia about the birds they saw on the way home from school this morning. His green eyes light up while she talks, and he laughs out loud when she calls birds “brids”, every single time, like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard. He never paid much attention before, but Harry's are probably the greenest eyes Louis has ever seen, and he almost gets lost in them when Harry starts telling him about rugby practice last night. Which is pretty fucking cliche, Louis thinks, and he physically shakes his head to break himself out of the daze.

“Alright, can we go back to me whining about my horrible day, please?” Louis speaks up when there’s a lull in the conversation, and Harry rolls his eyes but gestures for him to go ahead. Halfway through Louis’ rant, Olivia has lost interest, playing with the ground beef left in her bowl (she never has been much of a meat eater), but Harry’s eyes are glued to him, listening intently and giving his opinion when Louis asks if he’s right to be annoyed. It feels as easy as hanging out with Zayn, and Louis smiles internally at the thought.       

It’s nearing 8 o’clock by the time they finally finish dinner and their conversations. Olivia starts to yawn, and Louis thinks he should probably get her into the bath soon so that she can be dry and have enough time to wind down before getting into bed at 9. As if reading his mind, Harry scoops Olivia up in his arms as he stands from the table, and speaks soothingly, “You tired, Olive?”

She nods and nuzzles her head of curls into his neck before pulling back with wide eyes, “But I don’t wanna go to bed yet.”

Louis stands from the table and reaches out for Olivia, who climbs down from Harry’s arms to latch onto Louis’ neck. “Why don’t you head towards the bathroom and we’ll get your bath over with. Cucumber will stay until you’re done, okay?” Olivia huffs and nods when she is put down. She looks at Harry and makes him promise to stay before heading towards the bathroom.        

“You don’t have to stay. She’ll understand.” Louis offers, although he almost hopes that Harry will want to. It feels good to have someone to hang out with other than Zayn, in a way. He loves Zayn, he really does, but sometimes he feels like the only reason he’s been able to maintain their close friendship is because they live right next to each other. Louis barely has any time for himself, so going out is out of the question, and there aren’t too many chances to make friends in the supermarket or at his job, where everyone else is over the age of 30.

 "Nah, I want to. I mean, if you don’t care. I know you’re tired.”

 Louis considers this for a second and realizes that he doesn’t feel even the least bit exhausted anymore. “Caught a second wind of energy, I think. Zayn should be getting here soon anyway, we can have a lads night and  toss back a couple of beers after she goes to sleep. I could use it after today. If -- y’know, if you want to stay longer. Sorry. Sometimes I forget this is your workplace, technically.”

 Harry laughs and runs a large hand through his messy hair, “Again...doesn’t really feel like work, Louis. Pretty sure at this point you’re stuck with me hanging around, to be honest.”

 Louis groans dramatically and can’t hold back his laughter when Harry puts on his best pouty face. His lips are obscene, really.

 “You do realize I have a 5 year old, right? That won’t work on me. I’m a professional,” Louis says in his poshest voice before turning towards the bathroom, “You can watch TV or whatever until I’m done giving her a bath. Zayn will probably get here in a few.”

Louis is right, because when he comes back into the living room 30 minutes later with a much cleaner little girl that smells like watermelon, the dark haired boy has joined Harry on the couch.       

“Why did you let a stranger into my apartment?” Louis turns to Harry and deadpans, before cracking a smile when Zayn utters an indignant scoff.

“Zaynie!” Olivia drawls sleepily as soon as her eyes land on the dark haired boy, and she moves over to where he is sitting, crawling into his lap when she reaches him. Her hair is wet and he grimaces when it touches his cheek, but he hugs her regardless. She tells Zayn about her day for the next half hour, Harry seeming just as invested in the story as he was when they told it two hours ago, while Louis cleans up the kitchen. When he finishes, he doesn’t hear a lot of chatter coming from the living room, and comes back to see that Olivia's eyes are closed and her head has fallen heavily onto Zayn's chest.

“She fell asleep, mate, but I figured you'd wanna put her to bed," Zayn whispers, knowing that Louis doesn't feel right without saying goodnight to her. He nods and scoops Olivia up in his arms.

 "Say goodnight, Ols," Louis speaks gently into her hair, and waits until he hears a grumble that sounds vaguely like a goodnight before taking her into her room and tucking her into bed.

He shuts her door quietly and goes back into the living room, where Zayn has already grabbed three bottles of beer from the fridge and placed them on the coffee table.

Louis picks one up and kisses it dramatically, "Been waiting for this all day."

He takes the spot on the couch in the middle of Harry and Zayn, before flicking on the TV and putting it on a medium volume, so it won’t wake Olivia. She’s a pretty deep sleeper, he knows, but he doesn’t want to take any chances. There’s nothing quite like dealing with an irate Olivia that’s just been woken up. Zayn says it’s a lot like dealing with an irate Louis that’s just been woken up, but Louis pleads the fifth on that.

“I got a new artist to work with today,” Zayn says after he takes a long swig of beer, “he’s so fit. He’s, like, upcoming R&B or something. Like, Justin Timberlake 2.0, I swear, his falsetto is ridiculous. He’s gonna make it, I’m calling it now. He is _so_ fit.”

Louis turns to Harry and rolls his eyes, and Harry laughs around his bottle before taking a drink.

“Well, big shot, try to maintain some dignity and refrain from fucking him in the recording booth, yeah?” Louis smirks, and relishes in the way Zayn’s face reddens.

“Can’t make any promises, mate,” he responds with a wink once he’s bounced back.

 Zayn has never been shy about his sexuality-- he “appreciates it all, really”. He’s dated a few girls and has had more than a few hook ups with guys since they graduated high school. He’s dated a couple of guys as well, but was never really able to hold down a long term relationship with anyone for more than a month or two, not when he worked nearly every night from 8pm-6am. He slept for most of the day, and when he wasn’t sleeping, he was with Olivia and Louis. Louis always felt bad about it, but Zayn genuinely didn’t seem to care. He never worried about relationships or hooking up, he really just went with the flow and enjoyed life. Louis wonders if he’ll be able to settle down with someone now that he has a regular full-time day job. Louis also wonders what the hell he would do if Zayn did just that.

“Oh hey, mate,” Harry says after a particularly long sip of his beer, turning from the TV to make eye contact with Zayn. Louis wonders if Zayn has noticed how nice Harry’s eyes are (which, probably not). “I’ve got my first rugby game of the season tomorrow. Brought you some tickets in case you guys wanted to come,” he lifts his hips from the couch and reaches into his back pocket, pulling out 4 tickets and handing them to Zayn.

“I’ve got to go into the studio for a bit, but hell yeah, I’d love to come. You wanna meet me there, Lou? You and Ols could come.”

Louis hums and swallows his mouthful of beer, and god, he really hates beer. He’d much rather have a mixed drink, which Zayn gives him shit for constantly, but after a day like today he would drink anything. Except maybe whiskey.

“Yeah, sounds good. We’ll bring our pom-poms and everything,” Louis turns back to Harry, and, oh.

Harry isn’t drinking his beer like a normal person, because of course he’s not. He’s got his entire mouth wrapped around the neck of the bottle when he lifts it to take a sip, which looks obscene, and his lips sure are pretty. Louis literally cannot take his eyes away from the boy's mouth, even after Harry has stopped drinking. His lips are a shade of pink that Louis thinks is probably not even real, and the shape of his mouth is most likely what artists dream of when they paint portraits.  They look impossibly soft and plump, and there is a drop of beer dribbling down his lower lip. Harry’s tongue darts out to catch it, and Louis finds himself mimicking the action with his own. Harry runs his tongue slowly over his lips then, like he's in a goddamn porno, and that's quite enough, Louis thinks.

He stands and wipes his now sweaty palms on his sweatpants. “‘nother round, lads?” he asks quickly. He doesn’t wait for an answer before anxiously scuttling into the kitchen, sighing loudly, and letting his head thump against the cold fridge door.

Okay. Harry is a good looking guy, he’s allowed to notice that. It’s fine to think a friend is attractive. He tells Zayn how good he looks all the time. It’s _so_ fine. Louis, like Zayn, doesn’t worry about relationships and hooking up, but for different reasons. He barely has time to see Zayn, who lives right next door, and he hasn’t had the chance to meet anyone new, much less date anyone, since he’s had Olivia. He hooks up with someone once in a blue moon, on the rare night that Zayn drags him out of the apartment when Olivia is visiting with his mom, but the last time was months ago and Louis is just. That’s it. It’s been too long since he got laid, and having a new pretty boy in his daily life is fucking with his head. It isn’t his fault though, it is entirely the fault of whichever gods thought it would be a good idea to taunt Louis by dangling a curly haired boy in front of him, with a mouth that can’t possibly be as soft as it looks, a mouth that  requires further inspection with Louis’s own mouth. Unfortunately, Louis absolutely cannot do that, because it would go against all rules and guidelines in the Golden Handbook of Nanny and Employee Etiquette that he’s pretty sure exists.

He shakes his head and tries to forget about it, grabbing three more beers and heading back into the living room, this time sitting in the recliner. Harry declines the second beer, since he has to drive home, so Louis drinks that one as well as his own. They continue to drink and talk, occasionally tuning in to the match on TV to whisper-scream obscenities at various referees, and Harry enthusiastically tells the two boys about his game the next day. He seems more excited about this than Louis has seen him about anything, and it’s sort of endearing. Sort of. Christ, what is wrong with him?

After a particularly heated string of whisper-screams at the television, Harry says he should get going, since he has to get up early for his pre-game warm ups. The three of them stand up and stretch before heading to the front door, and Louis and Zayn promise to be at the pitch in time for the start of the game the next day. Louis groans after he shuts the door behind Harry and he turns around to find Zayn smirking at him.

“What?” Louis asks, narrowing his eyes.

Zayn laughs and shakes his head, giving Louis a tight hug before moving past him to head back to his own apartment. Louis tosses each of the beer bottles into the recycling bin, and crawls into bed with a bit of a buzz (he is not a lightweight, no matter what his friends say) after peeking into Olivia’s room to make sure that she is still asleep.

His head is swimming and he feels too awake now, even though he felt like he was going to drop dead when he walked in the door after work. Louis sighs and brings a hand up from his side to scratch at his bare chest, nails catching gently at his hardening nipples, while his mind wanders to thoughts of big hands and green eyes. His fingers travel idly over the peach fuzz of his stomach, following the coarseness of his happy trail down below the waistband of his boxers until he reaches his dick. Louis is trying desperately not to think about soft, bright pink lips sucking him off when he wraps his hand around the base, giving it a few slow strokes and before long, he’s fully hard, humming in the back of his throat as his eyes flutter closed. He thinks that he could probably use a quick wank, barely remembering the last time he didn’t have to do this for himself. He bucks his hips off of the mattress, moaning higher than he’d like to admit, and thrusting lazily into his own hand, repeatedly rubbing his thumb in a circle around the head of his cock. His face is getting hotter, and the familiar feeling is slowly rising in his gut as he starts to stroke himself faster, and with a couple flicks of his wrist, he comes, most of it pooling hotly in the space just above his belly button.

He lays still for a few seconds to let his breath even out, staring at the mess on his stomach, before frantically reaching over to his nightstand to grab a few tissues out of the box, guilt immediately swarming in his mind. He just came thinking about his daughter’s babysitter, _fuck_. Louis thinks the inappropriate cherry on top of the inappropriate sundae is that it’s probably the best orgasm he’s had in awhile, which says something about the caliber of the people he’s been getting off with. Louis sighs, demands his brain to stop thinking, and turns onto his side, trying to get settled. He feels tired now, like he knew he would, and closes his eyes, drifting off to sleep.

++

Louis leans down to take hold of Olivia’s hand before looking both ways and leading her across the street. He turns back as an afterthought, pressing the button on his keychain to make sure his car is safely locked in the parking lot. When he looks down at Olivia and mumbles a quick “ready, love?”, she lights up like a Christmas tree. When Louis woke her up this morning and told her that they were all going to watch Cucumber play rugby, she hopped out of bed immediately. Louis isn’t bitter that nothing he’s ever said has made her wake up that quickly, not at all.

Zayn called just as Louis had left for the pitch and said that he had to stay in the studio a little later but that he would meet them by the time the game started. Louis is 15 minutes early, so when he and Olivia find a place in the bleachers, he pulls out his phone and types Harry a quick _good luck, mate! try not to look bad in front of your tiniest fan ;) xx_ text. He quickly types another one and sends it immediately after, _i mean oliva not me_ , then pockets his phone.

fter he and Olivia grab a drink (plus two hot dogs, because, why not) and get settled back into their seats in the bleachers, Louis texts Zayn to tell him where they are. Just after he hits send, he hears the familiar voice come up behind him. 

“There you are,” Zayn says as he plops down next to Louis and slaps a hand to his back. There is someone with him that Louis doesn’t recognize, and the tall boy sits down timidly next to Zayn. His short brown hair is somewhat styled into a quiff, not quite to the level of Zayn’s, and has brown eyes that make him look a bit like a puppy, Louis thinks. He looks like he doesn’t know what to say, so Louis turns in his direction.

“Louis. I’m sure you’ve heard a lot about me,” he says cheekily before Zayn shoves him and laughs.

“Shut up, you ass. This is Liam, the uh, new artist I was telling you about? Liam, this is Louis, my best mate, and his daughter, Olivia.”

“Hi Lee-yum, I’m Olivia. I’m 5,” the previously silent child chirps, crawling over Louis’s lap to extend her tiny hand to Liam.

Liam laughs, crinkles forming around his now squinting eyes, “Hi Olivia,” he says, shaking her hand politely, before turning to Louis and doing the same, “I have heard a lot about you, actually.”

Louis sticks his tongue out at Zayn, earning him another shove, before Zayn continues, “We were running, like, so late in the studio. I told you, Lou, that Liam is the next JT or something, anyway, we did good work today. I had to leave to meet you guys here, so he just came with me.” Louis can tell that Zayn is trying to be nonchalant, but he can see right through him, and his lips turn up in a smug smile as he nods knowingly before turning back to face the pitch. Zayn pinches his side and mumbles a quiet “fuck off”, before turning to Liam and starting a conversation.

 “Daddy, where’s Cucumber?” Olivia tugs on Louis’s sleeve, and now that he thinks about it he wishes he had brought a jacket or at least a sweater for himself. It’s October and there is a light breeze that sends a shiver up his spine.

 “He’ll be out soon, love. We’ll watch him play and then we’ll see him after.”

 Louis has been trying to forget about his thoughts from the night before, chalking it up to a momentary lapse of sanity and a severe lack of self-control. And maybe he was a little drunk. Whatever. Harry is someone that he _pays_ to watch his child, for christ’s sake, and is also a friend now. He’s been attracted to people before and kept it under control, this will be no different. He will find him attractive, appreciate it from afar, and not think anything more about it. No problem.

 “There he is!” Olivia pats Louis’s thigh excitedly, smearing the mustard on her fingers onto his jeans, and he looks up to see the team making their way onto the field in a line. He spots Harry instantly, his curly hair and towering height making him stand out amongst his teammates, one of which Louis assumes is Niall. He’s following behind Harry, and fits the description that has been told to Louis before -- shorter than Harry, blonde hair, a wide smile plastered on his face.

Their uniform is all black, the short rugby shorts having a small yellow logo on the left side. The jerseys are simple, with a white collar and yellow lettering and player number on the back. Harry’s legs look impossibly long, and the shorts barely reach mid-thigh on him. Louis is close enough to the field that he swears he can still see the green of Harry’s eyes, which he can see even more clearly when Harry looks up into the bleachers to spot them.

He lights up instantly and gives a small wave, which they all return, before turning back to the rest of his team. They all break off after a quick group huddle, presumably getting into their positions. Louis doesn’t know much about rugby-- he’s more of a football fan, and anything he does know about rugby he’s learned from Zayn.

Almost as if Zayn is reading his mind, he leans over to Louis and points to Harry, “It looks like our little Haz is flyhalf, mate,” Louis quirks up one eyebrow, and Zayn attempts to explain further, “I mean he’s, like...Okay. There are forwards and backs. Sorta like in footie, yeah? The backs are the main ball handlers and runners, and the forwards do most of the tackling. The flyhalf is the one who gets thrown the ball first when it’s out of the scrum, sorta like the quarterback in American football. Like, the captain of the backs, almost. Get it?”

He gives an exaggerated yawn in response, because no, he doesn’t. Liam chuckles quietly at his snarkiness, and Louis thinks that maybe Liam is going to be fun.

 "I think that’s Niall,” Louis points out the blond boy to Zayn, who nods. 

“Yeah, I was thinking that. He’s a wing,” he says the last part mostly to himself, knowing that Louis won’t understand what he’s saying anyway, but Liam hears him and nods. 

The game begins, and for the first 15 minutes or so Louis is able to follow pretty well. He actually quite likes watching rugby games, he just never really understands what is happening. It’s a lot of rules about offsides and not passing the ball forward that he can’t keep up with. Harry’s team has made 3 goals (“they’re called trys, Lou, not goals,” Zayn explains patiently), and seems to be winning so far, judging by how excited Zayn and Liam seem.

The sun is higher in the sky by the time the second half of the game rolls around, and Olivia wiggles out of her cardigan after complaining loudly that she’s hot. The players all seem to be sweating heavily now, and even Louis feels too warm for comfort. When he spots Harry in the chaotic madness on the pitch, he notices that the younger boy has put on an elastic headband to hold his hair back from his forehead, which is now glistening with sweat. One shoulder of his jersey has a small tear in it, and his legs are covered in dirt and maybe a little blood. He looks determined though, despite the way his chest heaves with each breath.

Louis has never quite seen this side of Harry before; usually when Louis sees him, he’s smiling and laughing with Olivia. He looks angry and intense now, and Louis watches him bring up a large hand to wipe away the sweat from his face before running forward to tackle someone from the opposing team that is running towards him with the rugby ball in hand. Harry’s pretty fucking strong, Louis thinks, because he takes the other player down effortlessly. Louis can’t take his eyes off of Harry’s arms when he’s pushing himself off of the ground; he’s never looked closely at his upper arm tattoos, there are at least 6 on his left arm that resemble doodles, but right now they’re all he can focus on. When Harry gets to his feet, he brings up the bottom of his jersey to wipe at his face again, and Louis catches a glimpse of even more tattoos on the boy’s toned and tan stomach, which is definitely not going to work in favor of his aggressively-not-thinking-about-Harry-Styles-naked plan.

Nothing about watching him play rugby is working in favor of Louis’ plan, actually. Harry is sweaty, for one, and his legs look long and muscular in those tiny shorts, but the way he completely throws himself into the game so passionately is what’s causing Louis’ stomach to flutter at the moment. Harry never does anything half assed, Louis has noticed, and he should have known that this wouldn’t be any different.

“He’s really good, mate,” Zayn says after the last play of the game, and he stands up to stretch his back, “his friend Niall is too. They won, you know.”

Louis rolls his eyes and lifts Olivia to carry her down the bleachers. Zayn and Liam follow behind them, having a quiet conversation about the game, and they all stand together once they reach the grass to look around for where to go next.

They aren’t standing there long when Louis sees Harry running towards them, grinning and waving. He’s still a little sweaty, but christ, he looks incredible. Louis is trying desperately to push every feeling of attraction to the very bottom of his barrel of feelings but they seem to be the only thoughts in his head at the moment, shouting and attempting to claw their way out. Fuck.

"Look at this superstar!” Zayn shouts when Harry approaches them, wrapping an arm around his neck to get him in a headlock and tousle his hair, “Good game!”

The blond boy, which Louis is now almost positive is Niall, follows right behind Harry. He turns to Louis and extends his hand, which is somewhat covered in dirt. “I’m Niall! Been waiting forever to meet you, mate.” Louis shakes his hand and smiles, “Same here. I’m Louis, this is Zayn, this is Liam, and this,” he bends down to pick up the smiling child, “is Miss Olivia.”

Olivia ducks her face into Louis’ neck and giggles, which makes both Harry and Niall laugh.

Harry moves behind Louis’ back to speak to Olivia over his shoulder, “Olive, this is Niall. I told you about him!” He tugs lightly at one of her curls and she giggles again before lifting her face from Louis’s neck and smiling in Niall’s direction. Louis can feel Harry’s hot breath on the back of his neck, and he’s close enough that if Louis turned his head, Harry’s lips would come in contact with his skin. Harry’s hand is placed lightly on the small of Louis’ back, and if he wasn’t failing at his Grand Plan before, he is so gone now.

“Hi, Miss Olivia, it is very nice to meet you,” Niall says, tipping his head and winking at her, “I like your dress!”

Olivia blushes and turns to look at Louis, who gives her a look as if to say, _go on._

“Hello, Miss Niall, I like your dirt!” she says excitedly, mimicking his tone, causing the five boys to all break into laughter.

Harry steps from behind Louis “We usually go out for some pints after the game,” he trails off as his gaze lands on Olivia, and he looks back up to meet Louis’s eyes.

“Don’t really think the little one will be throwing any back, mate,” Niall laughs brightly as he slaps a hand to Harry’s back, “we could all grab some dinner though if you want? I’m fucking -- I mean, er, I’m so hungry.” He sends an apologetic look to Louis who just laughs.

“Sounds good. I’m starving too, and I know she probably is because, well, she always is. You guys down?” Louis puts Olivia’s feet on the ground and turns to look at Liam and Zayn, who are lost in their own conversation before Louis’s voice snaps them back into reality. They both nod, and the boys decide on a place to eat before parting ways.

Harry and Niall will meet the other three boys and Olivia at the restaurant, because they have to talk to their coach and head back to the locker room to shower first. Louis makes his way back to the car with Olivia and absolutely does not spend the entire drive to the restaurant thinking about Harry in the shower washing all of the dirt and blood off of his muscled, tattooed body. He _doesn’t._

++

“Will that be all?”

They all nod, and the waitress takes their menus before hurriedly walking back to the kitchen. They decided on a more hometown restaurant to get food in London, rather than some big fancy place. Niall and Harry were starving after their game, and really craved something greasy like a burger and fries. As long as Olivia could get pasta or grilled chicken, she was content, so Louis didn’t really care where they ended up.

After they’ve ordered and gotten their drinks, the different conversations start to flow easily, talking about Liam’s music or the rugby game. Olivia is squeezed in on the end next to Harry, with Louis sitting next to him across from Liam and Zayn. Niall is at the head of the table, completely focused on Olivia-- which, honestly, doesn’t surprise Louis in the least.

“Okay, I’ve got another one, Miss Olive,” Niall says before clearing his throat and asking very seriously, “What do clouds wear under their shorts?”

Olivia is already giggling, and Louis can tell that the blond boy is her new favorite person, “What?”

“Thunderpants!” he says excitedly, his Irish accent thick, and they both erupt into laughter. Harry looks on fondly and smiles, before turning to Louis and rolling his eyes. “I’ve been replaced.”

“No kidding, I think I have been too, to be honest,” he pouts, and Harry laughs. Their knees brush together underneath the table and Louis pulls back like he’s been burned.

 When Niall and Harry walked into the restaurant, they were much cleaner and wearing a lot more clothes than they had been at the pitch. Niall had donned a hoodie and sweatpants, but Harry just -- Harry had on jeans that Louis is honestly pretty convinced he had to struggle to put on, and a maroon v neck shirt that plunged low enough to show off his chest tattoos. His hair was freshly washed and styled into a floppy quiff, and his cheeks were tinted pink from being in the sun all day. Louis thinks that if Harry were on the menu, he would’ve ordered him instead of the chicken sandwich. Which, okay.

He doesn’t realize he’s now staring at Harry until Zayn kicks his shin under the table and raises an eyebrow when Louis looks up sharply. “Bastard,” he mutters, rubbing his shin, and Harry turns his attention back to him.

“All right, Lou?” he asks, looking under the table to see what Louis’ doing.

“Yeah, my best friend is just having leg spasms or summat,” Louis glares at Zayn before straightening up in his seat just in time to see the first plates of food being lowered onto their table. Niall got two burgers and a large order of fries, and waits about a millisecond after it’s set in front of him to start eating. Zayn got some sort of organic salad, and the other three boys all went with some form of a chicken sandwich. Olivia was happy to hear that they would put chunks of grilled chicken in her mac and cheese, which positively made Louis want to vomit, but she looks ecstatic when it’s put in front of her.

Her face falls quickly when she sees that instead of giving her chunks of chicken, they gave her a bowl of macaroni and cheese with a grilled chicken breast on the side. She pokes at the chicken gently and pouts.

Before Harry has a chance to pick up his sandwich, he looks over and sees Olivia’s dilemma. Without a word, he picks up his fork and steak knife and begins to cut up her chicken breast into tiny pieces. Louis is slightly in awe, and watches on as Olivia looks up at Harry like he is the second coming of Christ.

“Ta, Cucumber! They gave me a big piece but I think I am too little for that,” she says when he’s finished cutting it and putting it into her bowl of pasta, and he smiles down at her before nudging the food back to her.

Louis watches the entire scene play out, then looks around the rest of the table. Zayn is watching Harry too and gives Louis a look as if to say _wow_. Louis isn’t sure how Zayn always seems to know exactly what he’s thinking about Harry, but. 

He turns quickly back to Liam and Niall, and the three of them jump right back into their conversation. Louis wonders how this feels as natural as a group of people that hang out regularly, when in reality most of them just met each other. He decides not to question it.

"Food’s gonna get cold,” Harry nudges Louis’ knee with his own under the table, and keeps it there once they’re touching. Louis doesn’t pull back, because if Harry is fine with it, well, so is he.

 "Thanks for cutting up the chicken, that was nice,” he says quietly after Harry takes the first bite of his sandwich. They both look to Olivia, who is happily stuffing her face with her newly altered dinner and is watching Niall and Zayn talk with bright eyes.

“No problem,” Harry answers after he swallows. There is a tiny bit of mustard on the corner his mouth and, christ, Louis wants to lick it off. He refrains, which he thinks he deserves a medal for, at the very least.

“Got a-- got a bit, mate,” he says, his voice cracking a bit at the end, and points to his own mouth to show Harry. The younger boy licks literally every inch of his mouth except for where the actual spot is, and Louis honestly cannot watch his tongue move on his lips anymore. He reaches out without thinking and uses his thumb to wipe away the mustard, which is better than leaning forward and licking it off, so, okay.

If Harry thinks it’s weird, he doesn’t show it. He raises his finger to touch where Louis’s thumb had just been, and smiles sweetly in thanks before taking another bite of his sandwich and telling a story about his class last week. It’s weird to hang out with Harry like this, Louis thinks, but. It’s nice. He’s never been anywhere with him besides his own apartment, and out with a group of friends Harry seems more relaxed and outgoing. Any time Louis tells a joke, Harry laughs like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard, which makes Louis duck his face away and smile to himself. Every time he looks back up, Zayn is looking at him and smirking, and Louis thinks Zayn can just fuck right off with his intuitive-artist-bullshit mind, to be honest.

“Good game, by the way. Don’t think I told you yet,” Louis says after a couple beats of silence.

“Thanks. I’m, uh, glad you were there,” Harry smiles, before quickly adding, “All of you, I mean.”

Louis opens his mouth to say something, maybe about how pretty Harry’s eyes look, when the voice of reason interrupts. Or Liam.

“So," Liam's voice comes from the end of the table, “how long have you two been together?”

Louis isn’t sure who he’s referring to, exactly, and quirks up an eyebrow, “How long have _who_ been together?”

Zayn has suddenly become very focused on his salad, and Louis can see the corners of his mouth turning up into a smile. Liam gestures towards Harry and then nods at Louis, and Louis’ eyes nearly pop out of his head.

“We-- we aren’t!” He moves his leg, ripping it from where it was pressed against Harry’s. “No! We aren’t _dating._ He’s, er, he’s just. Friend. Olivia’s friend. My friend. My. Olivia’s nanny,” Louis says in bursts, shaking his head violently.

“Yeah, I watch Olivia during the day,” Harry responds in the calm manner that Louis was aiming for but missed by a longshot.

“Oh, um,” Liam looks to Zayn nervously, “Sorry? I just assumed, shit-- I mean, not shit,” he turns quickly to Olivia and shakes his head.

Zayn is absolutely hysterical now, and pats Liam on the back before whispering, “It’s okay, Li.” 

Harry laughs, and knocks his knee against Louis’ again under the table, which Louis isn’t sure is intentional, before promising Liam it’s not a big deal and going into an explanation of his job. Harry moves his leg back to barely touch Louis’ while he talks, and he puts his hand under the table to rest on his thigh. Harry’s fingers are brushing the older boy’s knee now, and it feels like the skin underneath Louis’ jeans is on fire because this is definitely intentional, but he can’t seem to pull his knee away from where Harry’s fingers are now idly tapping.

Louis feels like he’s sweating through his shirt, and he looks to Zayn, who only offers a smirk and a shrug. Shit. He thought he’s been reeling it in quite nicely, if he says so himself. Sure, his thoughts about Harry had gone from zero to sixty in a day, but that was in the safe vault of his own mind, and he hadn’t done anything obvious. Really. Well, not painfully obvious, at least. Harry is touching his leg and talking to him like he always would, completely unaware that Louis has spent the last two hours thinking about dropping to his knees at any moment.

When they’re all nearing the end of their dinners, Louis leans back in his chair and stretches his arm behind Harry’s back to tug gently on one of Olivia’s curls, causing her to turn and look back at him, “Good, bug?”

“Mmhmm! Daddy, can we get ice cream on the way home?”

“Ice cream?” Niall perks up, suddenly very interested in their quiet conversation.

Louis sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, but Zayn is already answering, “Why don’t we get ice cream and then head back to the apartments for a bit? It’s still early. We can play some FIFA or something, lads,” he looks around the table and Liam and Harry both mumble their agreement.

“Why don’t we save the ice cream for another night, Ols? It’s out of the way and Daddy just wants to get back home to change,” he explains, because he really does. His jeans feel too tight now that he’s eaten his dinner, and he feels hot all over from sitting in the sun all afternoon. Or from sitting next to Harry for an hour. Whatever. He’s just uncomfortable and wants to change into sweatpants and relax.

Olivia starts to whine dramatically, and Louis is about to snap at her when Zayn chimes in, “We can take her, mate. You go home and change and set up FIFA and we’ll just meet you there, if you want.”

“Pleeeeaseeeee, Daddy!”

Louis sighs, holding his hands up in surrender and Olivia squeals excitedly in response. They finish their dinner quickly after that, splitting the bill 5 ways and heading to the door after they’ve all sat for a few minutes to let their food digest.

When they reach the parking lot, Louis splits off from the group to head towards his own car. Harry walks with Niall to his old Ford pickup truck, and Zayn takes Olivia with him and Liam to his car, promising to wait for Niall so that he can follow behind them to the ice cream parlor. Just as Louis’ about to open his door, Harry comes running up behind him.

“Wait, Lou!” He reaches Louis’ car and seems a little out of breath, his cheeks even pinker than they were earlier. “Can I come back with you? Don’t feel like ice cream, really,” he smiles brilliantly, his dimples becoming the most prominent feature on his face.

No, Louis thinks, no you cannot come home with me, boy with sinfully tempting lips and big hands. “Yeah sure,” is what comes out.

++

Louis decides that he should never drive a car with Harry as a passenger ever again. For one, he plays horrible hipster music that’s just shit, to be honest, and doesn’t let Louis listen to any of the Top 40 radio stations (even though it is _his car)_. He also won’t stop tapping on the dashboard to drum along to the beat of the music. A menace all around, really. Louis finally gains control of the radio again, and he and Harry do a pretty ace rendition of the new Kesha song, in his humble opinion. He definitely does not blush when Harry enthusiastically sings his verse directly to Louis, not even in the slightest.

It’s around the time that they’re walking up the steps to Louis’ floor in the apartment building that his palms start to sweat. Harry has been here a good handful of times already, and they spend time together fairly regularly. But not-- not like this. This isn’t even _anything_ , christ, but it’s not out with a group and it’s not because Harry is here for work. Louis hasn’t been alone with Harry since he’s started feeling whatever the hell it is he’s feeling for him and this is just. All a little too much. It feels like something has shifted between them, and Louis can't seem to get a grip.

“You want anything to drink? They’ll probably be a while. Won’t judge you for throwing a couple back before they get here,” Louis asks when they walk in the door.

Alcohol. A+ idea, Tomlinson. One of his best ideas to date, probably.

“Well, are you going to?” Harry is shuffling his feet, and eventually pauses to take his shoes off slowly.

“Will it make you feel better if I’m also irresponsible?”

Harry nods with a smirk and Louis rolls his eyes, “Fine. Let me change and I’ll meet you in the living room.”

He makes a quick detour to his room to change into sweatpants and a v-neck before grabbing two beers from the kitchen. Louis finds Harry sprawled out on the couch in the living room, his back is against the armrest and his legs are stretched across the cushions. He pulls his knees up near his chest to give Louis room to sit down when he walks in and hands him a beer.

Harry flicks on the TV when Louis sits down and they sit in comfortable silence for the first few minutes.

This will be fine, Louis thinks. He can do casual. His middle name is Casual. Well, his middle name is William, but that probably translates to casual in some obscure language. He wonders what Harry’s middle name is. It’s probably something strong and powerful, like...Ryder or Sampson.

“Y’know what I realized, mate,” Louis starts, after settling on Harry’s middle name probably being Leonardo, “we’ve never seen each other outside of this apartment before tonight,” he moves his hand around wildly, gesturing around the room.

Harry laughs and takes a sip of his drink, “I know. We’re pretty shit friends so far,” he kicks out one leg and nudges Louis’ thigh with his toes. Louis flinches, because god, he is not used to this new habit Harry has formed of casually touching him, although he’s pretty sure he really, really, kind of likes it.

“I like Niall, by the way. You were right, he’s a riot. Ols seems to like him. Love him, even.”

“I knew she would. When we were walking to the car,” Harry shifts to move his back higher on the armrest, “he just kept saying ‘she is, like, the coolest 5 year old ever’.”

Louis smiles, and shakes his head, but Harry continues, “She really is, Lou. Not to get, uh, soap opera on you or anything. I just don’t know how you do it. Y’know. By yourself. But you’ve done, like, a hell of a job with her. She rules.” Harry grins.

Louis mirrors Harry’s facial expression instantly and ducks his head down to stare into his beer bottle. He really does hate beer. When he looks back up, Harry is still smiling at him, and it should be uncomfortable, but it isn’t.

“Well, thanks. I do my best.”

Harry nudges his thigh again and drinks down the rest of his beer, “Liam seems cool. Sorta quiet. Think Zayn likes him,” he winks.

“You think? He looked like a fucking 5th grader with a crush all night,” Louis laughs, remembering how Zayn had fawned over Liam when he started to tell the table about the album he’s working on. “By the way, sorry about. Y’know. Him assuming about us or whatever. Was a bit awkward.”

“A bit,” Harry says with a smile. His eyes are sparkling, actually sparkling, and he stands. “Didn’t mind though, to be honest. Never a problem when people just assume I’m dating someone attractive,” he grabs Louis’ now empty bottle along with his own and winks before walking into the kitchen.

Louis is glad, in that moment, that Harry had been polite enough to take his empty bottle, because if he were still holding it, it would now be shattered on the ground. Louis feels like he’s in secondary again and the captain of the football team just said he was cute. His stomach explodes in what he will vehemently deny is anything like butterflies, and he fish mouths for a few seconds, glad that Harry is in the kitchen unable to see him.

He tries to remind himself that his middle name is definitely Casual and not William, but it’s becoming progressively harder. Harry thinks he’s attractive. Harry, who looks like he was sculpted by the actual Greek gods themselves, thinks Louis is attractive. Okay that’s-- that’s just. It takes about 3 seconds before Louis’ mind goes into overdrive, _oh god is he flirting with me or is he just being a little shit because we’re friends oh god he’s just messing with me it must be written all over my face,_ and another 2 seconds before he pulls out his phone and texts Zayn.

_you think i’m attractive right_

His phone buzzes almost instantly after he hits send, and he rolls his eyes at Zayn’s reply, _yeah??? fishing fr compliments ?? :)  x be home l8r hv fun_

Okay, so, a friend thinking that another friend is attractive isn’t weird, clearly. Harry’s just messing with Louis. Not flirting. Just a Casual Joke between a couple of pals. Louis is tickled. Really.

“Brought you another one before you could say no,” Harry’s voice snaps Louis out of his thoughts as the tall boy takes his place back on the sofa, thrusting another bottle into Louis’ hand and putting his legs back up on the cushions.

"Thanks, mate,” he says, his voice a little higher than usual, before clearing his throat and twisting the cap off of his second beer, “you know what I also realized?”

Harry hums as he takes a sip and raises an eyebrow, so Louis continues, “I don’t even know what you’re in school for.”

“Well, I’m a political science major.”

Louis wants to laugh out loud, honestly, because that is literally the last thing he expected him to major in. Harry must see Louis’s lips quivering trying to hold back his laughter, and he rolls his eyes.

“Not my first choice. I wanted to do music, like, as a career. I don’t know, maybe make my own or help people make theirs. But my parents told me, ever so eloquently, that a career in music wasn’t going to put bread on the table,” he says the last part in a voice that Louis’ guesses is supposed to be Harry’s impression of his mother.

“So political science is clearly the next best option,” Louis responds, smirking as he nods.

“Clearly!” Harry says exuberantly, and they both laugh, “Did you go to university?”

Louis takes a long sip of his beer, because he can see where this conversation will probably lead and, well. “Nope,” he responds finally, popping the p loudly, “No university for me. After I had Olivia there wasn’t really the time, ya know.”

Harry stares at him with bright eyes and nods in understanding, before turning to the TV in silence. They focus on watching the football match for a few minutes before Louis turns to Harry and sighs, “Go ahead. Ask.”

Harry turns his upper body to face Louis, and re-situates himself against the armrest. His lips are slick and wet from his last swallow of beer, and Louis is having a hard time focusing on anything but Harry’s pretty pink mouth forming the question, “What do you mean?”

“I mean it’s okay, you can like. Ask. About Olivia and what happened there. I’m sure you’ve wondered.”

Harry chuckles and runs a hand through his quiff, which has drooped notably, “Didn’t think it was my business and that you’d just tell me when you wanted to. But, if you’re offering, yeah.” 

Louis shrugs, “Well, okay. Okay,” he puts his legs up on the couch, stretching them next to Harry’s so that their legs are smushed together and Louis’ toes are barely reaching Harry’s hips, and he props a throw pillow behind his back on the arm rest. He knew he’d have to tell Harry eventually, and he thinks that they’re at a good enough place in their friendship that he won’t look at him differently. But that could possibly just be the two beers talking, mixed with the tingling feeling in his leg where Harry’s own is pressed against it.

He wiggles his toes, brushing the side of Harry’s hip, and takes the last sip of his beer, “I was dating a girl my two final years of sixth form. Hannah. She was a cheerleader, I was a footie player, the whole dream package. We even got voted cutest couple by our class,” he puts a hand to his chest in mock poshness and Harry giggles around his beer.

“She’s Olivia’s mother? Wait, am I allowed to ask questions?” Harry asks, and Louis can tell he’s a bit of a lightweight too, because his eyes are just the slightest bit glassy.

“If you must. But yes, she’s the mum.”

“And....things didn’t-- uh, didn’t work out? I’m guessing?”

“Well, she isn’t here so,” Louis kicks his leg out a bit to nudge Harry’s elbow, “may I continue with my thrilling life story? You might not get this chance again.”

Harry makes a show of locking his mouth shut and throwing away the key, then gestures for Louis to go on.

“I was, I don’t know, _struggling_ when I was dating Hannah. I could never really give her all of myself because I didn’t really know who I was yet. Shit, I was 17 when we got together. She was so sweet and so beautiful but I was never super into it, y’know? Like, all the guys on the team told me how fucking lucky I was but I just. I don’t know.”

Harry nods along as Louis talks, listening intently. The words keep flowing from Louis’ mouth before he can even stop them, and he wonders if Harry wants to run for the door yet. “I let it keep going because I was stupid and, then, 18. It’s like I didn’t want to figure out who I was because I didn’t think I would like what I found,” he brings the bottle to his lips only to realize it’s empty, and lifts himself from the couch, “Ah, better grab another before I spill my guts.”

He shuffles into the kitchen and opens the fridge widely, taking a few deep breaths of the cool air before grabbing two more beers. It’s been about 45 minutes now, and he knows that the rest of the boys and his daughter will be home soon, but he’s on a roll and knows that he’ll never get this out if he doesn’t just hurry up. Like a band-aid or something, his mom used to say.

“Anyway,” he continues as he assumes his previous position on the couch, “during our last year of school, Hannah found out she was pregnant. I freaked the fuck out, as you do, but I wasn’t going to just, like, abandon her--”

“Did she know you were figuring yourself out or whatever?”

“Honestly, Harold--”

“Sorry, I like to be involved in stories,” Harry pouts and Louis rolls his eyes, because honestly, no 21 year old should look that adorable while pouting. No 23 year old should be finding a grown man adorable either, Louis’ pretty sure, but he’ll look past that fact for the sake of his sanity.

“She didn’t, at first,” he takes a sip of his beer and watches the television for a few beats, “but after a while I sorta had a break down and told her.”

“I bet that was fun for her.”

“Shut up, you arse,” Louis pulls the pillow from behind his back and throws it at Harry, nearly knocking the fresh bottle of beer out of his hand. “Wasn’t a walk in the park for me either.”

“So did you? Like....figure it out.” Harry raises one eyebrow and nods.

“Well, I haven’t gotten to the best part of the story,” he smirks, “So basically, once I had this pregnant girlfriend at the age of 18, I accepted the fact that I was just...gay? Like, not at all into girls. Which, I know, a great time to finally figure it out.”

Harry snorts, “And that’s what you told her?”

Yeah, about 3 months into the pregnancy. She, unsurprisingly, had that idea the whole time, but she was just an absolute peach and wanted to let me work through it myself.” It’s Louis’ turn to snort this time, because he remembers that conversation so vividly, “we basically had a very long talk and decided that obviously we weren’t going to work, but that it wasn’t the baby’s fault.”

Harry nods and Louis takes another drink before continuing, “And Hannah, she was like, this star, you know? She was so popular and smart and I knew that she had so much ahead of her. And I-- I didn’t really have anything. I didn’t want to hold her back. Told her that maybe we should do this, like properly do this, but that I could take on the parent role and she could go off to university and live a normal life.”

“Well that isn’t fair--” Harry says abruptly, but Louis interrupts him with a raised hand.

“But it’s what I _wanted_. I wanted the baby, but I didn’t want her to have to ruin her entire life. I knew that my life wouldn’t be set back as much as hers, and I was right. Got a good job with my mom, moved to London with Zayn, and here I am. We’re doing just fine. Hannah keeps in touch and all, but I’ll explain to Olivia when she’s old enough. Plus,” he hesitates, “wasn’t so sure if I’d ever have a chance to have a kid that was my _own_ again, y’know?”

Harry places his hand lightly on Louis’ ankle and rubs his thumb against the exposed skin, “Yeah. Well, that was pretty awesome of you.”

“What can I say, I’m pretty awesome,” Louis flips his hair dramatically and Harry laughs, “you don’t seem shocked by any of this.”

“‘m not, really.” Harry smirks, and Louis brings his elbow down on Harry’s foot, evoking a shriek from the younger boy.

“You knew? How did you know I was gay?” Louis asks in mock horror. Harry’s smirk intensifies and he barks out a laugh before Louis mutters, “Oh, go to hell.”

“Don’t worry, mate,” Harry squeezes Louis’ ankle, “They say your intuition is more on point if you’re gay yourself.”

Louis is pretty sure the world stops at that moment. He is also pretty sure that his heart stops with it.

“You....?”

“Yeah. Never really questioned it, to be honest. But, I’m definitely glad you figured it out.”

Harry is smiling softly now, and Louis can’t seem to catch his breath. It was enough to feel attracted to this fucking creature when he assumed there was no chance in hell. Now, well there’s still no chance in hell really, but this. This changes things a bit.

“You are?” Louis asks, swallowing loudly.

Harry hums in response, his hand travelling up slowly from Louis’ ankle, reaching underneath the leg of his sweatpants. Louis’ skin is on fire, igniting everywhere that Harry’s fingertips are running along his tan skin. Harry is watching him with piercing green eyes, a grin slowly stretching across his face.

“Very,” Harry says quietly after a moment, and lifts his back off of the armrest to lean forward. Louis’ breath catches audibly, but it’s muffled by the loud sound of four people crashing through the front door at the same exact moment. Because, apparently, Louis’ life is one big fucking cliche.

“We’re back!” Niall shouts from the entryway of the apartment. Harry shoots him a look that could kill and Louis laughs, wiggling his toes against Harry’s side.

“How was it?” Harry grits out, and Louis continues laughing silently. He isn’t totally sure what just happened, but he’s almost positive that it’s the cause of the fluttering in his stomach.

Olivia runs to the couch and climbs on top of both Louis and Harry’s legs, sitting herself in the middle, “Fun fun! Lee-yum ate my cone because I couldn’t finish. I was too full, Daddy,” she climbs over to Louis, laying flat and resting her head on his chest.

Louis brings up a hand to rub her back, and she sighs before asking, “Did you and Cucumber have fun?”

Harry smiles softly at Louis and his eyes sparkle, “Mhmm, a blast.”

Louis returns Harry’s gaze and the corners of his mouth turn up into a smile. If he thought things had shifted before, they were positively spinning now, and he isn’t sure that he could get a grip even if he wanted to.

++

“I need to talk to you.” Louis breathes frantically into the phone on his lunch break at work on Monday, sitting with his head in his hands.

“I have like 10 more minutes for lunch,” Zayn replies, with what sounds like a full mouth of food, “this can’t wait?”

“Did you know that my life is one big fucking cliche?”

Zayn laughs, “Uh, no? Why?”

Louis huffs and throws his hands in the air, as if Zayn can see him. “Well, first of all, this is basically your fault because you had to get this big shot job and make me get a goddamn nanny with pink, plump lips and green eyes and fingers that I just want to--”

“Wait, _what?”_ Zayn interrupts.

Louis puts his face in his hands again, covering his mouth and mumbling his response.

“You’re gonna have to speak up, mate, can’t really hear you --”

“I think I like Harry.” 

There’s silence on the other end of the line for a few beats before Zayn erupts into laughter, “Well, no offense, but....duh.”

“Fuck off,” Louis snaps, and moves to hang up the phone before Zayn hurriedly continues.

“I’m just saying, I could see it coming. But only because I know you, you insufferable twat.”

Louis sighs, “So what do I do? He, like, _works_ for me.”

“Well. Do you think he likes you? Christ, I feel like we’re 15 again.”

Louis can tell that Zayn is rolling his eyes and shaking his head, but he continues, “I don’t fucking know! He said that I was attractive! Oh and he’s gay, which I found out Saturday night, and he just kept-- he kept like, touching me. And I thought he was going to kiss me or something right before you guys walked in, but maybe he was just-- Oh my god, I literally sound like a 15 year old,” he lets his head drop to the table and groans.

“Sounds like maybe he likes you, mate. What’s the problem?” Zayn asks nonchalantly, and Louis wants to scream.

“The _problem_ is that he is someone I pay every two weeks? The problem is, genius, that he is someone that I trust to watch Ols every day. I can’t even do anything about this. I can’t exactly fuck him and never see him again.”

“He doesn’t seem like the type to do that anyway, Lou-- Look, they’re calling me back into the studio, but we’ll talk more later, yeah? I’ll come over after work,” Louis whines dramatically but Zayn talks over him, “Shut up, it will be fine. Love you.”

Louis hangs up and sits with his head down for the rest of his lunch break. It will be fine. He is totally, completely fine.

He’s a little less fine when he gets home later that day, and steps into the living room to find Harry and Olivia sitting in the middle of the floor laughing. Olivia has brought out her entire make-up kit, that Louis now regrets getting her for Christmas last year, and has covered Harry’s face in what looks like every shadow and blush she has. Harry is also wearing a tiara, because, like. Of course he is. His previously pink lips are covered in bright red lipstick, and he smacks them together loudly, making Olivia giggle before she looks up and finds Louis standing above them.

"Daddy! We played princess dress-up! Doesn’t Cucumber look pretty?” she asks excitedly, grazing a small hand over Harry’s cheek gently. He looks up at Louis, clearly not even aware that he had walked in, and Louis honestly feels like his knees will buckle at any moment.

 Harry’s lips look even more full, and the bright red shade is making it hard for Louis’ eyes to look anywhere else. The shadows covering his eyelids and the bone of his brow are messy and bright, but they make his eyes pop and look impossibly greener. Louis suddenly can’t breathe.

“Pretty, right, Daddy?” she asks again, impatiently tugging on Louis’ pant leg.

“Very pretty,” Louis isn’t even embarrassed at how choked his voice sounds, because he is drowning, absolutely drowning.

“Why don’t you go wash up for dinner?” He says, patting her head and smoothing down her unruly curls.

She runs off to the bathroom and Louis stares at Harry, who is now standing from his spot on the floor with a smug look on his face.

“I’m pretty, huh?” he smirks, and Louis wants to punch him, honestly.

“You didn’t have to let her do that,” he gestures to Harry’s face.

“Didn’t care. She had fun. Don’t know how I’m going to get it off though,” he whines, giving Louis these _puppy dog eyes_ and Louis really, really wants to punch him.

“Hell no. This is your fault, mate. You got yourself into this,” Louis turns and walks into the kitchen, laying his keys on the counter and moving to the sink to wash his hands.

“Louiiiiiis,” he follows Louis and whines louder, “I’m pretty sure it was _your_ flesh and blood that did this to me! I was just being a good nanny. Help meeeeeee,” Harry hops onto the counter next to him, swinging his gargantuan legs wildly, knocking his heels against the cupboards below. 

Louis looks over at Harry, _fuck, he looks ridiculous_ , and sighs, “I’m taking this out of your paycheck.”

He wets a soft washcloth, wringing it out over the sink, before bringing it to Harry’s face and beginning to wipe off the colors above his eyes. The boy’s eyelids flutter closed while he sighs happily and nuzzles into Louis’s touch. Louis wouldn’t be surprised if he started to purr, honestly.

“Can you sit still?" he takes the wash cloth away from Harry’s cheeks and taps his foot impatiently, even though he's smiling brightly, “You’re worse than Olivia.”

Harry wiggles exaggeratedly before settling, staring right back at Louis this time as he brings the cloth to his cheek again. His gaze is probably burning a hole into Louis’ skull, he’s sure of it.

Louis is leaning against Harry’s knees and stumbles forward into the v of his legs with a gasp when Harry suddenly spreads them wide. Harry chuckles and closes his eyes, letting Louis wipe off most of the blush and eyeshadow before he opens them again. Louis is struggling to keep his breathing regular.

“Your eyes are so blue,” Harry says quietly, making Louis pause momentarily.

"A great observation, Styles,” he responds, bumping his hip against Harry’s knee, “yours are very green.”

Harry hums while his eyes flicker down to Louis’ mouth. Louis swallows and continues to remove the makeup slowly. He’s almost done now, which he’s glad for, because he thinks he’s about to burst into flames. Or melt into a puddle. One of the two is about to take place right here in his kitchen, definitely.

“Daddy, can I play in my room until dinner?” Olivia calls from the living room, and Louis is thankful for the momentary distraction.

“That’s fine, bug. Don’t make a mess,” he yells back, his thumb grazing Harry’s upper lip while he clears the rest of the makeup.

“Think you’re fine. Except the lipstick. I’m pretty sure you can manage that, though,” Louis says suddenly, not moving from his place in between Harry’s long legs.

Harry stares back at him and smiles, “Thanks. I should get going.”

He makes no effort to move either, and they stand staring at each other in silence for a few beats, Harry’s eyes continuing to flicker down to Louis’ lips. Harry’s own lips are the fucking problem, he thinks, and they’re still so red and _there._ Louis is standing in between his legs, for christ’s sake, and it’s taking every ounce of self control in his body not to lunge forward and connect their lips.

“You’re such a goddamn tease,” Louis whispers shakily, not even totally sure that he said it out loud until Harry laughs brightly and hops down from the counter, his face now centimeters from Louis’.

“Sorry, love,” Harry smirks, before placing a light kiss on Louis’ cheek, undoubtedly leaving a large red mark in his lips’ absence. He pulls back and grins at a wide-eyed Louis, before wiggling out from between his body and the counter and walking to the front door to put on his shoes.

 Louis really, _really_ wants to punch him.

He barely mumbles a goodbye before turning to the cabinets to find something to fix for dinner, and Harry is slipping out of the apartment after going to Olivia's room to say goodbye. He cannot think about Harry Styles. He just cannot.

Louis does a great job of Not Thinking until he’s settled on the couch watching shitty reality television later that night, long after Olivia is tucked away in bed. His phone buzzes against where it’s laying on his bare chest, and he picks it up quickly, nearly blinding himself with the sudden bright light in the dark of the living room.

_u know what i was thinking_

Louis sighs heavily and lets his head fall to the back of the couch before typing out his reply to Harry.

_what’s that mate?_

The response comes quickly, and Louis wonders what Harry even does after he leaves the apartment. He also wonders why Harry’s up at almost 1am when he has class in the morning. Not that Louis is concerned for his well being, just that he doesn’t want Harry to fall asleep at the wheel when he’s driving Olivia home from school. Whatever.

_u said that we never hang out outside the apartment... we should do something this friday. me and u. maybe get some drinks or smth...idk paint the town red or watever :)_

What even is Harry Styles, Louis thinks, and let his head hit the back of the couch a few more times for good measure.

Maybe he’s feeling bold. Or maybe he’s tired. Either way, he quickly types, _this wouldn’t happen to be a date would it?_

_someone is a bit presumptuous :) x_

Louis smiles while rolling his eyes, and lets his thumbs move quickly over the bright screen of his iPhone, _you’re impossible._

_and you think too much. i just thought it’d be cool to hang out again. you’re fun :)_

He reads Harry’s response, not letting the smile fade from his face when he types out his final text of the night.

_i am fun aren’t i ;) yea sounds good xx_

Friday-- Friday they will hang out. Louis can do casual with this curly headed monster. He can have a few drinks with a good friend. A great time, that. He hangs out with Zayn all the time.    

Louis sighs loudly, letting it turn into a low groan. “Fuck Harry Styles, honestly.”

++

Zayn is making faces at Olivia over Louis’ shoulder, but stops promptly when Louis glares at him.

“You’re sure you don’t mind watching her?”

Zayn groans, “Mate, I swear to god, if you ask me one more time--”

“I’m just asking! Not everyone wants to hang out with a 5 year old on a Friday night!”

Zayn makes another face at Olivia, who is sitting on the couch happily watching a movie, “Niall and Li are gonna come over in a bit, remember? It’ll be fun. We’ll take care of her and you’ll have a good time,” he winks and places a hand on Louis’ back, leading him to the front door.

“Not _your_ idea of a good time,” Louis raises an eyebrow at Zayn while he slips on his shoes. 

"Mhmm,” Zayn smirks, “right. Definitely not a date. I forgot.”

 “It isn’t a fucking date,” he growls lowly, because, well. It isn’t. It’s just two friends hanging out.

 "Have fun, princess,” Zayn smacks Louis on the ass before calling Olivia over to say goodbye. She wraps her thin arms around his thighs before kissing his hand and promising to be extra good for Zaynie and ‘the boys’. Louis kisses her goodbye before texting Harry to tell him that he’s on his way down, and that he’ll meet him outside in a couple of minutes.

 Harry is picking Louis up, but only because Louis is not good with directions. Not because this is A Date.

 He’s wearing one of his tightest pairs of jeans, which Zayn had whistled suggestively at, and a white scoop-neck shirt. He looks good, and he would bet on his date drooling over him, if this were some sort of date, which it is not.

 "Hey,” Harry drawls from where he's leaning against the brick wall when Louis steps out of the apartment building, “you ready?”

 “Nope, just walked all the way down here to say I’ll need another hour,” Louis deadpans, before smiling and walking towards the parking lot. Harry laughs and hangs back, walking behind him.

 If Louis sways his hips a bit more than usual it is merely a coincidence.

 “So where exactly are you dragging me?” Louis groans once they’re settled in Harry’s small car, quiet music serving as background noise.

 Harry looks over at Louis, with something that looks like worry in his eyes, and frowns. “If you really don’t want to go out, we don’t have to--”

 Louis reaches over the console and rests a hand on Harry’s arm, “Hey, I’m just kidding. I’m happy we’re hanging out. I’m dying for a night out, at the very least,” he winks.

 Harry nods slowly and smiles before starting the car. Louis brings his hand back to his lap, picking at a loose string on his jeans for the first few minutes of the drive.

 “But actually, where are we going?” He speaks up finally, making Harry chuckle.

 “Hmm,” Harry hums thoughtfully, looking behind him before pulling onto the highway, “I thought maybe we’d grab some dinner, if you don’t care. I’m fucking starving.”

 Dinner. Dinner could be casual.

 “I can already see the hamster wheel in your head turning,” Harry laughs, “It’s just dinner, Lou.”

 “Excuse me, there are no rodents in my head.” Louis looks over at Harry, who just rolls his eyes. “But yeah, I’m hungry too. We could just go through the drive-thru or something though if you want.”

 Harry snorts, “Romantic.”

 “No need for romance, Styles.”

 “Why, because you’re a sure thing?” Harry side-eyes Louis, turning on his blinker, before turning his attention back to the road.

 Louis is offended for about 2 seconds until he realizes that, well. Yeah, pretty much. Not that he’ll let him know that.

 “Now who’s presumptuous?” Louis pushes his fringe back, and his bloody hands are shaking. Actually shaking. He’s like a 14 year old going to the drive-in for the first time. He swallows thickly before adding, “No, it’s because this isn’t a date.”

 Harry hums in response, and Louis thinks he’s smirking. Bastard.

 ++

They end up going through a drive-thru. Louis mutters under his breath but is secretly happy that they didn’t go to a fancy sit-down restaurant. He isn’t sure that he could look into Harry’s green eyes and not jump across the table to touch him. They've been at each other's side the entire time, but Louis needs to be closer, wants Harry closer.

Harry is wearing dark wash skinny jeans, like he usually is, but he’s wearing a patterned button up shirt, which is not so usual.

He wore a dress shirt the first night Louis met him, but he figures that was just for a good first impression. Since then it’s been band t-shirts, rugby jerseys, or v necks. Not that Louis minds.

And he certainly doesn’t mind this shirt either; it’s short-sleeved, and Harry’s arm tattoos peek out from underneath the hem of his sleeve, small markings of blank ink littering his upper arms. His green eyes stand out even more against the maroon shade of his shirt, and Louis has had to physically shake his head in a cartoon-like manner numerous times already to bring himself out of the gravitational pull that Harry’s eyes seem to have.

“Now where to?” Louis asks excitedly, in step next to Harry, his stomach full of fries and chicken.

fter they ate, they left the car in a parking garage in a busy part of the city, and decided to just walk since they didn’t have a clear plan. They had stopped in a few stores, browsing and window shopping mostly, but now found themselves idly walking through downtown London. Louis glances at his phone to make sure there are no frantic _oh god I lost your kid_ texts from Zayn and notices that it’s already 10 o’clock. 

“Hmm,” Harry looks around, and bumps into Louis before laughing, “Wanna go to the club?”

No, no, no, Louis thinks, bad idea, the worst idea, no.

“Obviously,” Louis says instead and. Okay.

“'s a place down this street that’s like, got a good bar and dancing and all that. It’s a good time, usually. Me and Niall go with the team sometimes.”

Louis gestures for Harry to lead the way, and they spend about 10 minutes walking and talking. Harry dominates the conversation for most of the walk, telling Louis about his family back in Holmes Chapel. Louis is just starting to talk about his sisters when they reach the crowd of people huddled around the entrance of the club.

Louis suddenly feels very underdressed, glancing over at two tall guys wearing shirts much like Harry’s paired with even tighter jeans than his own. He pulls at his thin, white shirt and frowns.

Harry must sense his insecurity, because he places a warm hand on the small of Louis’ back when they walk up to the entrance, and Louis thinks that he really has to stop doing that.

“You look fine, Lou. Everyone will be drooling over you.”

See. Louis knew these pants were drool worthy. He smiles shyly and turns his head towards Harry to mutter a quick thank you. Harry smiles back at him before pushing him forward gently, leading him into the club.

It’s mostly dark once they get inside, with  flashing lights coming from the dance floor in the center of the room. It’s small, nothing like the clubs he’s been to with Zayn, but the bar is massive and it’s surrounded by people, even though it’s still fairly early. The dance floor is packed, and Louis can already feel a thin layer of sweat building on his forehead.

Harry is still guiding Louis, and it's as if every nerve in his body is reacting to the feeling of Harry’s huge hand splayed across his lower back.

"Drinks, yeah?” Harry leans down and mumbles in his ear, and Louis gulps past a dry throat.

 “Yeah, okay,” he tilts his head and yells back, before pushing his way through the crowd to get to the bar.

It’s been so long since Louis has been out. Like, actually out, at a bar. He doesn’t even remember what he orders from a bar, christ. They find two empty stools once they finally reach the counter, and Louis is glad to give his feet a rest. He reminds himself to refrain from indulging in anything ending in -tini and orders a jack and coke. How very burly of him.

“An appletini, please,” he hears Harry shout to the bartender, and of fucking course. Honestly.

Louis turns to face Harry, smirking.

“Don’t even start,” he points at Louis, “I can’t help that whiskey makes me sick and I am man enough to appreciate a good martini.”

Louis holds his hands up and shakes his head, “Not judging, mate. That’s what I prefer too, if I’m honest,” he shrugs.

Harry smiles at him again, before turning to the bartender. “Make that two.”

“I already have this,” he holds up his own drink, that he much less prefers but just paid £8 for, so.

“And that will be your only drink of the night?” Harry deadpans, paying the bartender and sliding one of the martinis over to Louis.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?”

Harry’s eyes light up and he breaks into laughter, “Why, what kind of drunk are you?”

“Oi! A fun one,” Louis pushes his already damp fringe back, silently cursing himself for not styling it in a quiff like Harry’s, “love a good karaoke song. A bit handsy.”

Harry waggles his eyebrows suggestively and Louis kicks him - right in the shin, causing Harry to nearly fall off his stool when he jerks back. They’re both laughing loudly now, and god, Louis hasn’t even finished one drink yet. He should work on that.

He drinks down the remainder of his jack and coke, scrunching his face at the burn in his throat as it goes down. Harry raises an eyebrow before taking in more of his drink, smiling contently as he swallows. Louis picks up his own appletini and takes a sip, if only because it would be flat-out rude not to drink something that a curly headed fucker bought for you. And Louis Tomlinson may be a lot of things, but he is not rude.

He isn’t proud of the appreciative whine that escapes his lips after he’s taken his first drink, but he can’t really bring himself to care when it makes Harry smile like he's just won the lottery.

Louis thinks that he’d do anything, really, if it made Harry look like that.

“Good, Lou?” Harry asks, and gestures towards the drink that Louis is bringing to his lips again.

“Delicious, thank you,” he drinks down the last of it, before placing the empty glass back on the bar and sighing. “Don’t tell Zayn. If he asks, I had jack and cokes only.”

Harry laughs but crosses his heart exaggeratedly, as if that is something that 21 year olds do when making a promise. Louis wonders how Harry Styles is even a real tphing, honestly.

Louis moves uncomfortably in his seat, the thin layer of sweat on his body making his equally thin shirt stick to his back. The neck of the shirt is scooped low enough to show the slightest bit of chest hair, even though he doesn’t have a lot, and Louis sees Harry’s eyes drift down to his chest momentarily before ordering another appletini. “Just so we’re even,” he says when Louis smirks.

They sit at the bar for what has to be half an hour, Louis thinks, having one more drink each after Harry finishes his second, putting both of their numbers at three. They talk and laugh and Louis’ head is a bit fuzzy, maybe.

He will blame that for the way he is watching Harry’s lips mouth at the side of his glass. He isn’t drunk, so he knows that he isn’t being very subtle.  But he is buzzed, and that’s enough to unabashedly stare at Harry’s mouth, watching as his tongue darts out to catch the last drop of the fruity drink from his plump lower lip after he’s set his glass back on the bar. Louis gulps, and watches Harry’s eyes flicker down to his throat, where his adam’s apple is bobbing.

"Any texts from Zayn?” Harry asks, after waving off the bartender when he asks if they’d like another drink. Louis thinks that the bartender might be smirking at them, but. He isn’t sure that his eyes are working properly.

“Nope, guess they’re all alive and okay,” Louis laughs and bounces in his seat, the bass of the music making his stomach jump. He can barely hear Harry’s low voice over the the booming music, but he watches Harry’s lips move slowly. To figure out what he’s saying, that is.

Louis thinks that Harry’s lips should inspire shades of lipstick. Every day they look different, Louis is sure. One day they are pink like a tiny kitten nose, and the next they are red and swollen, as if Harry has been chewing on them nervously.

The song switches suddenly, transitioning into an upbeat remix version of Katy Perry’s ‘Teenage Dream’ and Louis gasps audibly, which. Katy Perry brings out a side of him that he can’t control, really. He starts to move his hips slightly to the beat of the music, humming along to the first words of the song, before Harry gestures knowingly towards the dance floor.

 “I mean, we could, like,” he waves his large hand, “dance. We did come to a club. To dance.”

Louis jumps up in response, the alcohol making his head spin for a moment while he gets his footing. Harry’s hand comes up to grab his elbow, holding him steady, and he chuckles when Louis nods finally and walks towards the dance floor.

Harry follows him, his fingertips grazing Louis’ lower back so that they don’t get separated before pushing their way into the crowd. Louis jumps into the sea of people immediately, underestimating just how many bodies were dancing underneath the hot lights, and feels his shirt stick to him instantly like saran wrap.

He can’t bring himself to care, because Katy Perry is singing about hearts racing and skin tight jeans and he’s had, like, three appletinis, damnit.

Louis sways his hips to the music freely now, no longer constricted by sitting down. He can’t move much from where he’s planted his feet, because everyone has crowded in closer, but he, again, can’t bring himself to care. He isn’t totally sure that Harry is still with him until the song is nearly over and he feels two hands place themselves lightly on his hips. He turns his head to look at who’s grabbed him, and it’s Harry, of course, who raises his eyebrows as if asking if this is okay.

It is okay, Louis thinks, or maybe he says it out loud, he isn’t sure. Regardless, when he turns to face the front again, Harry’s hands grip his hips tighter and he steps in closer until his front is pushed against Louis’ back.

Louis doesn’t care that this insanely beautiful creature is behind him while he’s swaying his hips, he really does not. 

The song ends, quickly moving into another remix of a song that Louis doesn’t recognize. The beat is nice though, he thinks, and he moves his hips without reserve, closing his eyes and letting himself dance and enjoy himself for once. He is only vaguely aware of Harry pressing in closer, and even less aware that he’s pushing back into Harry’s body, rocking his hips and letting his head fall back to rest on Harry’s chest.

He’s had three drinks and Harry is tall and, just. Right there. Sue him.

Louis feels hot, so hot, like he can’t breathe, and he isn’t sure if it’s from the fucking boiling temperature on the dance floor or because this boy is breathing on his neck in a way that would normally annoy him, but is currently making his pants feel tighter than they already are. Which Louis didn’t think was possible, but apparently it is. It totally is.

Everyone is moving in a blur around him, and he loses himself for a moment. The next song is nice, really nice, and Louis finds himself circling his hips filthily, now fully aware of the way his ass is grinding back on Harry’s crotch.

If he hadn’t been aware, it would have been brought to his attention by the way Harry groans low in the back of his throat, like he can’t control the noise that is escaping his lips. Louis can barely hear it over the roar of the music, but Harry’s lips are practically brushing his ear now, and the sound reverberates in Louis’ eardrums.

This is okay, Louis reminds himself, because he and Zayn have danced together at clubs before.

Zayn’s hands never lowered to lay flat against his thighs though, and when Louis looks down, all he can see are Harry’s massive hands nearly covering the front of his thighs, and that’s. That’s just.

Louis brings his arm up to circle Harry’s neck, now barely even in control of his own body, which he isn’t sure is from the alcohol. His buzz is barely there now, his head only feeling slightly heavy, but now he is drunk on something entirely different. Harry’s head falls back momentarily, reacting to the touch of Louis’ hand on his neck, and he moves his hips to match the rhythm of Louis’ wild movements. They finally sync, and Louis thinks their bodies fit together, in a way. A bit like puzzle pieces.

He’s holding tightly onto Harry’s neck now, moving his fingers up to snake into messy curls, feeling the sweat building there. Harry’s arms glisten with a sheer layer of sweat, Louis realizes, and he looks just like he did that day on the rugby field.

Louis rolls his body, encouraging another small, needy groan out of Harry. Louis smirks, turning his head to the side to look back at Harry cheekily. Harry just smiles down at him before rolling his own body in retaliation.

Louis does not groan. He just doesn’t.

He’s trying desperately not to get hard like a thirteen year old at their first school dance, but he feels like every drop of blood in his body is rushing straight to his dick when Harry’s body shifts against his backside and he feels Harry’s own dick pressed right up against his ass. Louis grinds back on him more enthusiastically, rocking his hips to the beat of the new song. The lights are flashing now, making everyone around them seem like even more of a blur, and Louis closes his eyes.

Harry’s hands move up Louis’ thighs slowly, stopping at his hips momentarily to pull the small boy closer to him before spider-walking his fingers to move onto his stomach. His hands, his gigantic fucking hands, are splayed across Louis’ lower tummy, rough fingertips grazing slightly at the tiny sliver of golden skin exposed where his shirt has ridden up.

It’s like every inch of Louis’ body is on fire, and he can’t remember the last time a simple touch made him feel so aroused. He tugs lightly at Harry’s sweaty curls, matching it with a roll of his hips and his eyelids flutter when Harry lets out a surprised breath against his neck.

This feels like so much, too much, all of a sudden, but Louis can’t bring himself to focus on anything except for where Harry’s fingers are touching him, where Harry’s breath is heating his skin, where Harry’s body is pressing into his. His head is swimming with fruity drinks and _HarryHarryHarry._

Three or four more songs must pass, Louis has lost count, and they keep the same rhythm and the same position the entire time. His skin never cools down, and he feels like he hasn’t taken a breath in at least thirty minutes, maybe forty.

Eventually Harry slips his fingers into Louis’ belt loop, tugging at it lightly to spin Louis around to face him. Harry’s face is glistening with sweat under the lights, and his lips are red and raw, like he’s been biting them. Louis smirks.

“Wanna break?” Harry leans down to yell in Louis’ ear, his voice coming out ragged.

Louis nods, instantly moving to push his way through the crowd. When they reach the outskirts of the dance floor, he inhales loudly, glad for a breath of air to fill his lungs again.

Harry gestures towards the bathroom, and Louis tells him that he’ll wait by the bar. Partly because he doesn’t have to use the bathroom, but maybe mostly because he doesn’t trust himself not to shove Harry against the wall of a bathroom stall and drop to his knees. So. The bar it is.

He finds a stool upon returning to the bar, pulling out his phone after he sits down and opening his messages.

_havin a good time ? ;) xx_

Zayn is such a joy, honestly, Louis thinks. He smiles down at his phone and replies, _yeah we just fucked in the back of the club :)))._

Zayn’s response comes almost immediately, and Louis wonders how good of a job babysitting he can possibly be doing if he’s attached to his phone.

_really ???_

Louis rolls his eyes and types, _no u fucking moron i’ll be home soon xx,_ before pocketing his phone again.

 He turns in his stool to lean back against the bar, closing his eyes and nodding his head along to the music. He feels tired suddenly, his limbs feeling like jello and his mind buzzing with thoughts of pink lips and rough hands.

 As if his brain was giving off signals, Harry’s hand is suddenly on Louis’ thigh again, the boy returning to stand in front of Louis with a smile.

 “Hi,” he breathes out, and Louis wouldn’t have heard it, or rather seen it, if his eyes weren’t already zoned in on Harry’s lips.

 “Hi,” he responds, smiling stupidly, “think we should head back? I’m knackered.”

 Harry nods, patting Louis' thigh once before shoving his hands into his pockets.

 They walk back to the car a few blocks away in the cool night air, totally sober now, talking and occasionally bumping their hips together and giggling. Louis thinks that maybe, just maybe, this feels a lot like drowning.

 ++

 “So,” Harry drawls once they reach the front door of the apartment, “I had a good time tonight.”

 This feels like the end of a date, Louis thinks, where he’s standing on his parents’ porch and he’s about to tell this lovely boy that he’ll call him tomorrow before giving him a shy kiss on the cheek as his parents flicker the lights, signaling for him to come back in.

 Louis groans, because _christ_. He flicks his hair out of his eyes nervously and lets out a small shaky breath before whispering, “this was a date, wasn’t it?” 

 Harry giggles, clapping a hand over his mouth, and Louis glares at him.

 He isn’t sure why Harry decided to walk him to his front door, since he clearly knows how to get there himself. Harry probably felt like it was the Nice Thing to do. Fuck his nice manners.

Louis’ feelings were hurt for half a second when Harry had said he didn’t want to come in to see the boys and Olivia, but he quickly explained that he wanted to get home and sleep in the apartment without having to listen to Niall’s snoring through the wall for once. Zayn had texted when they were halfway home that Niall and Liam were just going to crash in the living room on the sofa bed for the night, because they were exhausted. Harry said that if he came in, Niall would decide to just ride home with him, and he was going to “definitely cherish this night of sleep”. Or something.

Louis is not even a little bit mentally prepared for the mess that probably awaits him through the door. He sighs audibly, making Harry smile.

“Well, it’s really whatever you want it to be, Lou,” he says after a moment, almost a whisper, looking down at his shuffling feet.

“I don’t--,” Louis runs a hand over his face, “I don’t know. I just--. Fuck. Like, I _want_ this to be a date?” His voice is shaking, he notices, but he can’t seem to make it stop, “Honestly, I really do, but I-- I can’t want that. I shouldn’t want that. You. I shouldn’t want you.”

Harry looks down at him patiently, his smile stretching slowly across his face, and Louis almost groans.

“So, I--” Louis continues, his voice coming out more like a ragged breath now, “I don’t know. Well, I _do_ know, but,” he sighs, “I don’t know the _right_ answer.”

His sighs in relief, feeling like a weight has been lifted off his chest now that he’s finally said something.

That lasts about 2 seconds until it feels like his chest is suddenly being pressed into by the weight of a freight train, because _oh god._

He looks up sheepishly to see Harry smiling, eyes sparkling, and god, he’s pretty.

“Okay,” Harry shrugs while still looking fondly down at Louis, “well, let me know whatever you decide, Lou.”

He smiles broadly before leaning forward and placing a long kiss on Louis’ cheek. Louis closes his eyes and tilts his head into the touch, humming contentedly at the feel of Harry’s warm lips on his skin.

Harry pulls back and smirks before turning to saunter towards the elevator, swaying his narrow hips with every stride. Louis is still standing in stunned silence in front of his door long after Harry calls back a goodnight and disappears behind the sliding elevator doors.

Drowning no longer covers it, Louis has decided. He's completely submerged, laying breathless against the floor of the ocean.

++

He shakes his head before opening the door and shutting it behind him quickly. Louis turns to face the door after it’s closed and locked again, letting his head bang against the wood rhythmically while he groans.

“I’m fucked,” he says through gritted teeth.

“Uh, mate.” Zayn’s voice breaks Louis out of his daze, and he turns his head to look into the living room. 

Niall is sitting on the couch with Olivia in his lap, both of them holding game controllers. Zayn and Liam are both laying in the floor, their heads resting on one of the body pillows from Louis’ bed. Louis guesses that they were probably looking up at the TV before he walked in, but now all eyes are on him.

 And - wait. Olivia is still up.

 “Hi,” Louis says meekly, walking towards the living room, “Ols, don’t you think it’s time for bed? Gettin’ pretty late, baby.”

 “Hi Daddy,” she smiles sweetly, which means that she is about to ask for something, Louis is positive. “Me and Miss Niall are about to beat the game! Can we just finish, please, Da?”

 Bingo.

 Louis looks at Niall, who gives him an apologetic smile, before looking to the tv.

 “Are you actually playing Barbie Horse Adventures?” he asks once he’s seen the recognizable pause screen, and Liam laughs heartily.

 “Mate we’ve been at it all night,” Niall huffs out, waving his controller in the air, “but I can’t get our fu-- our, uh, horse to win the race. Drivin’ me mad.”

 Louis looks at him bleakly before looking down at Zayn and Liam, who are sharing a look and giggling like two schoolchildren.

 “And you two just let her stay up this late, babysitters of the year?”

 “Oh c’mon, Lou, it’s Friday,” Zayn whines, sitting up from his place on the floor. He winces, rubbing at his back. “We were having fun.”

 “You lot are a bunch of pushovers,” Louis laughs, before nodding at Niall letting him know that it’s okay to continue.

 “Alright, Miss Olive, let’s smash it this time, alright?” Niall says, and Louis isn’t quite sure who is more into the video game between the two of them.

 He stands after watching the screen for a few minutes, muttering that he needs to change. Louis walks into his bedroom, flopping onto the bed face first, letting his limbs spread out across the soft duvet. He likes to lay like a starfish sometimes, when he’s feeling particularly pitiful.

 Zayn laughs suddenly from the door of the bedroom, the sound thick and rough from years of smoking.

 Louis hears the pitter-patter of Zayn’s bare feet getting closer and feels the bed shift when the older boy sits near his head. He runs thin fingers through Louis’ hair and sighs.

 “How was your date, babe?” He asks quietly, and Louis can tell that he’s smiling.

 He hates Zayn, he really does.

 “Wasn’t a date,” he mumbles into the comforter, not bothering to turn his head to face Zayn. He is enjoying his hair being played with, at the very least.

 “Mhmm,” Zayn hums, “how was it?”

 Louis huffs, going against his better judgement and rolling onto his back. Sure enough, Zayn is looking at him, a smug expression painted on his face.

 “I like him.”

 “We’ve covered that,” Zayn pushes Louis’ fringe back, “did you have a good time?”

 “Yes! A great time! The best time! He is lovely and sweet and fun and. And. Oh, did I mention he’s into me? I fucking--” Louis groans, reaching up to grab a pillow to hold against his face.

 Zayn laughs quietly and pulls the pillow out of Louis’ grasp, placing it gently next to Louis’ head before laying down next to him. Zayn extends his arms, which Louis rolls into easily.

 “I just like--” Louis burrows his face in Zayn’s sweater, pulling at the fabric with his tiny hands in frustration, “Why does he have to work for me?”

 “Never stopped you before, babe,” Zayn presses a light kiss into Louis’ hair, wrapping his arms tighter around the smaller boy’s middle. “Remember Nick Grimshaw?”

 Louis looks up at him, glaring when he’s met with a smirk. Bastard.

  “That was hardly the same. He was a nursing intern at my mom’s place. We fucked once, and I wasn’t paying him to take care of my kid.”

 “Okay, okay,” Zayn laughs, “I’m just saying. It doesn’t always fuck things up, ya know? You guys stayed friends and still worked together.”

 Louis groans and Zayn presses another kiss to his forehead.

 “I’m serious. Harry seems like a good lad. You could, like, test the waters or something? If it starts making things weird, just stop. But at least you tried.”

 “I just don’t want to like, ruin things for Olivia,” Louis sighs.

 Olivia loves Harry just as much as Harry loves her, and Louis doesn’t want to let his heart, or his dick, get in the way of that. If things - if _whatever_ this is didn’t work out, he doesn’t know what that would mean for their everyday routine and Louis just. He doesn’t really know what to do about that.

 “Olivia thinks Harry hung the stars,” Zayn says, and Louis laughs because. Yeah. “I think that no matter what, they’ll be okay. Just want you to be happy too, Lou.”

 Louis hugs Zayn closer at that. He knows that he never does anything for himself, and Zayn is always overly-protective of him. Maybe if Zayn thinks it’s a good idea, it is. Unless.

 “Wait,” Louis says suddenly, sitting upright, “did you fuck Liam?”

 “What--” Zayn sputters, eyes wide, “No! What the hell, mate!”

 “Oh shut up, you brat, I saw the puppy love in your eyes,” Louis rolls his eyes, “That’s the only reason you’re so encouraging about this. Because you two work together too. Oh my god.”

 “Why don’t you say it a little louder, Lou?” Zayn growls, pulling Louis back down to the bed, wrestling him for a moment until Zayn is straddling him. Zayn pins Louis’ arms down, his necklaces smacking Louis in the chin where they’re dangling and swaying wildly.

 “Get off me, you,” Louis struggles underneath Zayn’s grip, laughing when Zayn blows air into his ear.

“Listen to me, yeah?” Zayn asks, looking Louis in the eyes now. He huffs and continues, “You always put everyone else before yourself, which I love about you, but. Lou. You have a chance at being with a good person, an actual good fucking person, and I don’t want you to shut him out and not even try just because you’re scared. Let yourself be happy for once.”

“How very sappy of you, Malik,” Louis says, his voice coming out a lot quieter than he intended it to. He looks up at Zayn, searching his brown eyes to find nothing but sincerity, and he sighs. “Alright, yeah. Maybe you’re right.”

Zayn rolls off of him finally, tucking Louis into his side again. “Just saying. He’s fit, too. If you don’t, maybe I will.”

Louis smacks at Zayn’s stomach, “Piss off.”

“Somebody’s gettin’ jealous,” Zayn sing-songs, and suddenly they’re wrestling again.

Louis thinks that Zayn isn’t half bad, maybe.

++

 When Louis woke up the next morning at 8 am, his thoughts did not include _“I should march to Harry Styles’s apartment and tell him how I feel about him”_.

But now it’s 8:45 am and Louis is still in his pajamas and, well. Here he is.

 _God._ Here he is in front of Harry’s front door, standing on a doormat that says “Welcome!”, because of course Harry has that doormat.

“Fucking hell,” he groans, finally knocking on the door three times. 

He honestly didn’t think this through.

He’d woken up at exactly 8 on the dot, feeling like he was going to sweat through his shirt. He would’ve thought it was still the middle of the night had he not looked at the clock, because Harry brought home some of those thick curtains when he took Olivia shopping last week. “Thought you needed some,” he’d said sheepishly.

Louis thinks that maybe the key to his heart is a nice pair of curtains, which is alarming.

He’d woken Niall up after he finished breakfast, asking him quickly what his address was. Niall hadn’t been so pleased, but mumbled the directions and apartment number anyway.

 Louis isn’t sure what he’s going to say, really, but he thinks that he should humor Zayn for once. He can tell Harry how he feels. _I like you_. Not so hard, Louis thinks.

 And if Harry doesn’t say it back maybe he’ll just curl into a ball on the floor and start crying. He’ll probably have to quit his job so that he can stay home with Olivia during the day, since Harry will quit and move to another country just to get away from Louis, but. No big deal.

 Louis turns to leave, convinced that this is a Bad Idea, when the door opens slowly.

 “Louis?” Harry rubs at his eyes, yawning, “What’re you doin’ here?”

 Harry’s hair is ruffled, like a tiny duckling, and his shirt is wrinkled. It’s falling off of his shoulder, and Louis thinks he probably threw it on in a rush, not wanting to answer the door half-naked to a possible stranger at 9 am.

 Harry is looking at Louis wide-eyed now, “‘s everything okay?”

 Louis laughs abruptly, because no. Not really.

 “Yeah, Haz, everything is just ace,” he responds sarcastically, not waiting to be invited inside before pushing past Harry and entering the apartment.

 He’s never even seen Harry’s apartment, but his mind is racing and he can’t take a breath long enough to look around. “What is your middle name?”

 Harry shuts the door quietly before turning around to face Louis. His brow furrows, and he laughs nervously while running a hand through his messy hair.

 "Uh, Edward. Is that what you came here to ask?”

 That’s - Alright, that’s powerful too, Louis guesses. Not quite like Leonardo, but. Okay.

 “You know, I didn’t even know your middle name,” Louis’ laughs, only slightly aware of how batshit he must sound right now. He turns on his heels, taking a second to look around.

 Harry’s apartment has nearly the same exact layout as Louis’, the front door opening into the kitchen, which then breaks off into the living room. The kitchen looks modern, and is, as Louis should’ve expected, completely spotless.

 “I’ve never seen your apartment either. Had to ask Niall where you lived,” he continues after a moment, spinning back around to look at Harry, who looks about as confused as Louis feels.

 “Lou, what are you on about--” Harry starts, but Louis cuts him off.

 “Shouldn’t I know these things? I mean, you watch my kid every day! I should probably know your middle name.”

 He’s breathing heavily, and this isn’t exactly what he imagined what he would say when he decided to leave his house this morning, but it’s as if his mind has shut off completely and abandoned him, leaving him to make a fool out of himself.

Harry stares at him for a moment, before smiling softly and shaking out his hair.

“Okay. What’s your middle name?”

Louis looks at him before sighing, “William.”

“Ah, a nice name. Powerful," Harry says, making a face and posing as if he’s in a bodybuilding competition.

Louis is gone, so gone.

“Powerful,” Louis whispers, staring at Harry incredulously before shaking his head.

“So, now that you know my middle name, do you, uh, want some breakfast or something?” Harry gestures towards the kitchen awkwardly, “Or I could give you the grand tour--”

“Do you know how fucking maddening you are?” Louis spits out.

So. Not exactly going like he had planned. He’ll roll with it.

Harry looks up at him quickly, clearly confused. “Lou, what the hell is wrong with you? You just woke me up at 9 in the morning and you’re making no sense!”

“You just--” Louis tugs at his shirt, realizing that he didn’t bother changing into a shirt without stains on it, “you work for me.”

Harry laughs incredulously, and throws his hands in the air. “I have no idea what you’re pissed about.”

“You work for me. And,” Louis pauses, swallowing thickly before looking up at Harry sheepishly, “you drive me crazy.”

“Fuck, if I was doing something wrong, you should have told me--”

“No, not -- Jesus, Haz. I mean you drive me _crazy_. I can’t stop thinking. About you, or whatever.”

Eloquent and romantic as always, Louis thinks.

Harry freezes, staring intently at Louis now. He’s at least 10 feet away from Louis, still standing by the front door, but Louis is pretty sure that he can feel every breath escaping the boy’s mouth.

“About me?” Harry asks and Louis nods. “What about me? What do you mean?”

Louis is annoyed now, because Harry can’t just figure it out for himself?

“I _mean,_ Harry, that all I’ve thought about for almost two weeks now is your fucking lips. Do you have any idea how pink they are?” Harry smiles softly and shakes his head. “Well, they’re just. Perfect, or something, I don’t know.”

Harry’s smile widens, and nods. “Anything else?”

Louis could punch him, honestly. He would, but Harry looks tired and soft, and all Louis really wants to do is pull him onto the couch and cuddle into him.

“Olivia loves you. Really, really loves you. And you’re so-- you’re so fucking good with her. You’re so fucking good in general. Everyone likes you. I like you.”

Harry opens his mouth to speak, but Louis can’t seem to stop now. “And you _do_ things, like dance with me at a club or tell me you’re glad I figured out my,” he waves his hand around aimlessly, taking a breath, “my identity crisis or whatever, and, fuck, I haven’t felt like this in a long time. Feel a bit like a kid in school with a stupid crush,” he chuckles awkwardly, “I sorta don’t even know what to do with it.”

He runs a hand through his hair, pushing his fringe into a floppy quiff. Harry is just standing there, open mouthed, and Louis feels the need to fill the empty silence.

“I’m not, like, asking you for anything. I’ve just been going kind of mad, and Zayn is really into being proactive or whatever, so I just wanted to tell you. So,” Louis looks at Harry who is smiling at him dopily now, “there. Now you know.”

“You like me?” Harry asks after a moment.

Louis looks up angrily, “Yes, you-- did you miss everything else I said? Honestly.”

Harry giggles, taking a step forward, “So what does that mean?”

Louis groans, running a hand over his face, “I have no idea. Because you work for me, but like, you also _work_ for me and I don’t want to mess this up. But you’re so, _christ,_ you’re so fucking great and. And.”

Harry is moving closer to Louis, slowly, and Louis backs up. He takes about four steps before his back hits the counter in the kitchen, and he whines while he rubs at his lower back. Harry laughs quietly, taking another step closer.

“You know what?” Harry asks quietly, only a couple of steps away from Louis now.

Louis gulps, “What?”

“I’ve wanted to kiss you since I walked into your apartment for my interview.”

Louis gapes at him. Boys like Harry do not want to kiss boys like Louis, he is sure of it.

“And you still took the job?”

Harry laughs, “Yeah, obviously.”

Louis stares at him for a long moment, squinting, “Why?”

“Because I liked you--”

“That’s fucked up, Harry.”

Harry laughs quietly and rolls his eyes, holding up his hands to signal that he isn’t done talking. “Because I liked you as a person, not because I was trying to get in your pants.”

“Oh.” Louis breathes out, but he isn’t sure if Harry hears him. 

“I liked Olivia so much. I liked Zayn, I liked the job. You were so stressed, and I wanted to make things easier for you. I just. I’ve always just kinda wanted to make things easier for you.”

“That’s the problem!” Louis yells abruptly, making Harry jump back, startled. “You think everything is so easy and-- it shouldn’t be easy! It doesn’t work like that!”

Harry is watching Louis patiently, and he leans back on the fridge, exhaling, “Sometimes it does, Lou.”

Louis scoffs, “If you’re going to spew some shit about fate and soul mates I’m going to punch you in the mouth.”

Harry smirks and raises one eyebrow, and Louis can barely see straight.

“Look, I’m not--,” Harry starts before Louis can respond, “I’m not saying this is easy, I know it’s tricky, or whatever. I’m just saying.”

“And I’m just saying that you’re an arse.” 

“What?” Harry laughs loudly, knowing that Louis is just being difficult now, “What have I done?”

Louis nearly shouts, making Harry stand up straight from his relaxed position against the fridge, “Nothing! Absolutely nothing. You’ve been perfect and understanding and patient and it’s making it really hard to--” Louis lowers his voice, “to resist.”

Harry walks closer, and Louis thinks he could probably hear a pin drop in the silence of the kitchen. He backs up again slowly, hitting his back against the counter in the same spot as before.

He’ll probably have a bruise tomorrow. Louis can’t really bring himself to care.

“So don’t," Harry whispers, once he’s close enough to give Louis goosebumps.

Harry steps closer, his body nearly pressing against Louis’ now, placing both hands on either side of him to to lay flat against the counter. Louis is trapped, and feels like he can’t breathe, which he thinks is a pretty damn good metaphor for this moment.

“Harry,” he squeaks out, barely a whisper. Harry is close now, so close, and Louis thinks his skin might actually melt off from the intensity of Harry’s gaze or the heat of his breath on his face. 

“You like me?” Harry whispers now, looking at Louis with bright eyes full of questions. Louis has to tear his eyes away and look above Harry’s shoulder, because. Harry has no idea what he’s doing to him, really.

“Already said that, I think.” he responds, letting his eyes flicker back to Harry’s. He gulps, and Harry smiles, his dimples growing deeper.

“What do you want to do about that?” he asks. Louis looks him in the eye now, trying to read him. There’s a spark of something there, Louis thinks, like he’s challenging him.

His eyes drop quickly to Harry’s mouth, drawn there by Harry’s tongue darting out to run over his lower lip. He glances back up at Harry and tries to respond, but Harry is so _close_ and suddenly his mouth is so dry, and whatever he was attempting to say comes out as another squeak.

Harry laughs quietly, “Yeah, me too.” He leans forward, closing the gap between them. Louis feels like the moment is in slow motion, like the entire room is spinning in slow motion.

Harry’s lips brush against Louis’ lightly, almost like he’s asking a silent question. He kisses the corner of Louis’s mouth, quickly once, and then breathes out in a sigh. The breath bounces across Louis’ lips, and he feels like he should breathe it in, savor this moment, drink Harry in somehow.

 Harry kisses the corner of his mouth again before pressing his lips fully against Louis’ finally, keeping them there for a long moment. Harry kisses much like he talks, Louis thinks, slow and like syrup. The kiss is languid and smooth, like there is nothing in the world that they would rather be doing. Louis isn’t so sure there is.

 Louis parts his lips, and Harry pulls his lower lip between his own briefly before pulling back and looking at him contentedly. His lips look red and plump, even after a short kiss, and Louis wants nothing more than to kiss him again. He surges forward, pressing his lips against Harry’s, and wraps his arms around his neck.

 Harry makes an _oof_ sound, before smiling against Louis’ mouth. He kisses back, pushing against Louis to make him lean back against the counter. Louis is smiling into the kiss now, and he can’t remember a time when he’s smiled into a kiss just because he couldn’t stop.

Harry’s hands come up to wrap around his waist, and he snakes one hand up Louis’ spine, stopping to rest it at the nape of Louis’ neck. His tongue darts out to run along Louis’ bottom lip, and Louis opens his mouth slowly to deepen the kiss.

His head is swimming, and he feels like he’s floating and drowning at the same time, which he didn’t think was a Thing, but it is, it really is. Harry tastes like a hint of the alcohol from the night before mixed with sleep and toothpaste, and Louis doesn’t think that he’s ever tasted anything sweeter.

The kiss becomes a series of delicate pecks after a minute, and Louis keeps his eyes closed even after Harry has kissed his lips lightly once and leaned back. His eyes flutter open, and Harry is staring at him, and god, his lips look obscenely red now.

“So,” Harry says, smiling too wide like he’s drunk, and yeah, Louis gets that.

“So," Louis repeats back to him, feeling bashful all of a sudden. He looks down to where their hips are connected, and he thanks whatever gods there are for not letting his body react too overzealously.

“How about breakfast, yeah?” Harry asks, peppering Louis’ face with kisses, making him laugh, “I’m a bit hungry now.”

Louis’ smacks his chest, blushing, “Oh shut up.” He slithers out from between Harry and the counter.

“But I really am hungry,” Harry pouts, and Louis is already so gone for that.

“Make me some eggs, Styles,” he smiles wickedly, swaying his hips as he walks towards the living room.

“Bossy,” Harry scoffs, “I like it.”

Louis looks back at him and rolls his eyes before turning back to the living room and walking slowly towards the couch. He plops down, feeling sated and content, despite the panic creeping at the edges of his mind, and puts his feet up on the coffee table. He’ll worry about the voices in his head screaming ' _oh my god what are you doing'_ later.

He leans forward, grabbing at two books that are open on the table. Two textbooks, he guesses, since some of the passages are marked and highlighted. There are a few loose leaf pieces of notebook paper sprawled across the table, and Louis notices that at the top of one of the sheets, there is a small L written and traced over what looks like 100 times.

He decides not to think about that for too long, sparing himself the mess he'd have to clean up should his head explode.

“It’s ready. You want orange juice or milk?” Harry calls from the kitchen after a few minutes, and Louis perks up immediately.

“Mmm, orange juice. Haven’t had a proper breakfast in forever," he says with a sigh, standing from the couch and walking towards the counter.

Harry’s apartment is different than his own in that he has a bar separating the living room and the kitchen, with two stools. A plate gets set in front of him, with two pieces of toast and the most delectable smelling heap of scrambled eggs that his nose has ever had the pleasure of coming in contact with, and he smiles at Harry in thanks. Harry returns the smile before lifting the apron from around his neck, and it’s only then that Louis realizes he’s wearing an apron.

He doesn’t know why he expected anything less, really.

Harry settles on the stool next to him once he’s gotten Louis a glass of juice, with his own tall glass of milk.

“You put ice in your milk?” Louis asks, grimacing.

Harry shrugs. “Nobody likes warm milk.”

Louis thinks that kittens do, so Harry probably should. But.

He rolls his eyes, nudging Harry’s side with his elbow. He finally picks up his fork, and hums when he takes his first bite.

“What the fuck, Haz?” he says after he swallows, “All this time you’ve been a chef and you didn’t even think to cook for me?”

Harry blushes noticeably, and stuffs his mouth with eggs. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

They eat in comfortable silence, commenting now and then on random things. Everytime Louis looks up at Harry, he is already watching him, fluttering his eyelashes and smiling.

The silence isn’t good for Not Thinking, Louis thinks, and his mind is racing at a mile a minute with the weight of what’s happened since he left his house. He’s kissed Harry. Harry who works for him. Harry who watches his kid every day and has grown attached to her already. It isn't even 10am and Louis feels exhausted _._

“So,” Harry starts after they’ve cleared their plates of food, “I was thinking--”

“That’s never good.”

Harry continues, ignoring Louis’s remark, “We should take Olive to the aquarium tomorrow. It’s 50% off admission on Sundays, and I’m pretty sure kids are free.”

“How could you possibly know that?” Louis laughs, picking up his plate and stacking it on top of Harry’s. He stands up and moves to the other side of the counter, placing the dishes in the sink and turning on the water.

“The commercial keeps coming on tv, and she looks so into it,” he explains, following Louis, “it would be fun.”

“You know, you’re really shit at first dates, if that's what you're attempting." Louis turns his head to Harry, where he’s putting the juice and milk back into the fridge. He spins around to face Louis, and places a hand to his chest like he’s wounded.

 "I am the best at first dates, I’ll have you know. This doesn’t count, this will just be a fun thing we could all do together.”

 Louis smiles down at the dishes he’s washing. That could still be casual, he thinks. Still not a real date, so it can’t be too self-destructive. He can be smart about this. Probably.

 “I don’t know, Harry, I’m not even sure, like, what to do about this,” he waves a soapy hand in the air, “thing.”

 Harry comes up behind him, wrapping his long arms around Louis’ middle tentatively, as if he isn’t sure if this is okay yet, and rests his lips on the back of Louis’ neck.“C’mon Louuuu,” he whines before blowing a raspberry against the warm skin.

 “You’re such a brat.”

 “You like it.” Harry kisses his cheek once with an exaggerated smack of his lips before detaching himself and moving back to the counter to clean up the rest of their mess.

 And yeah, Louis thinks, he really, really does.

 ++ 

“Hello,” Harry waves a large hand in front of Louis’ face, “earth to Lou?”

Louis shakes out his hair, looking up at Harry, who is chuckling quietly. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

Harry rolls his eyes, “I was _saying_ that we should take Olive to see the otters before we go.”

He looks down at the small child between them, tugging at her hand gently to encourage her to keep walking. She stops every few seconds, eyes wide, taking in every inch of the aquarium.

Olivia nearly woke up the neighbors with her screams on Sunday morning when Louis told her that they’d be going to the aquarium after breakfast. She may have screamed even louder, if possible, when Louis told her that Cucumber was coming too.

Louis had rolled out of bed that morning with a pounding headache. He spent the entire night tossing and turning, the scene that had played out at Harry’s the day before gnawing away at his insides.

He was a bit scared now. Terrified, really.

Okay, petrified. Because this _thing_ between him and Harry _,_ whatever is is now, is officially out there. He’s put himself out there at least a little bit, he’s done something about it. There’s no rewind button, no do-over. Now he either gives it a shot and fucks it up or it, miraculously, goes well.

He isn’t sure which one will be harder to cope with, if he’s honest.

“Sound good, babe?” Harry asks, pulling Louis from his thoughts.

Louis blushes at the pet-name, and clears his throat quickly, “Yeah, okay, good.”

Harry smiles, picking Olivia up. She giggles loudly, tucking her face into his neck, and Harry tickles her sides before taking long strides in the direction of the otter exhibit.

Louis walks behind them a few steps, stuck in his own head.

Harry had been great, as usual, after their breakfast the previous day. Louis left after he helped to clean up, wanting to get home before the rest of the boys and Olivia woke up. When he left, Harry had leaned in for another kiss, which Louis quickly turned into an awkward kiss on the cheek and a tight hug. Harry had chuckled, placing a kiss on Louis’ forehead instead.

Harry was really maddeningly perfect and understanding sometimes, Louis thinks.

“Daddy, my best friend is here!” Olivia shrieks when they walk up to the otter exhibit, pointing at the glass tank.

Louis looks at the tank, confused. “Uh, who, sweetie? Someone from school?"

She points again, more excitedly, to the glass. Louis squints, looking close to the ground for a child her size.

“Oh my god. Is that Niall?” Harry laughs loudly, holding one hand to his stomach. He points with the other, and Louis’ eyes finally land on what Olivia is seeing.

Niall’s face is pressed against the glass on the other side of the tank, his nose resembling that of a pig, and he’s chewing with his mouth wide open. His eyes widen suddenly when he spots them, and he pulls away from the glass with a smile.

 "‘s Miss Niall!” Olivia tugs on the leg of Louis’ shorts.

 "Hey!” Niall’s voice booms loudly across the exhibit, the blond boy making his way over to where the three of them are standing.

 Louis notices the hot dog in his hand only after he sees the glob of ketchup smeared across his chin. He hasn't known Niall long, but he isn’t the least bit surprised.

 “Ni, what’re you doing here?” Harry asks after Niall has hugged all of them in greeting.

 “It’s 50% off admission on Sundays,” Niall explains, wiping at the ketchup after Louis motions to his chin, “can’t pass that up, I reckon.”

 “Who are you with?” Louis asks, looking through the tank again.

 “Just having some Niall time, mate.”

 “You came to an aquarium by yourself?” Harry asks, laughing again.

 “You say it like it’s a bad thing,” Niall says nonchalantly before taking a bite of his hotdog.

 “Honestly. Is this where you go when you’re studying,” Harry makes air quotes, “on Sundays?”

 Niall grins, swallowing his mouthful of food.

 “Miss Niall, can we look at the otters?” Olivia asks impatiently, moving to tug on his pant leg instead.

 Louis sighs, “Ols, we’ll look with you--”

 “I can look with her real quick, s’alright,” Niall nods, tossing his trash into a nearby trashcan, “c’mon. We’ll be right back, lads.”

 Niall takes Olivia’s tiny hand in his own, leading her closer to the glass. Louis thinks that Niall is becoming his new favorite person.

 “So,” Harry whispers suddenly.

 Okay, maybe his second favorite.

 “So,” he responds breezily, bouncing on his heels.

 “Said that already,” Harry smirks, “but I’ll let it slide. Having a good time?”

 Louis hums and nods, “Yeah, this was a good idea. You’re full of good ideas, apparently, young Harold.”

 Harry throws his head back and laughs, smiling brightly. “I’ve got another one for you, actually.”

 Louis groans, bumping his hip lightly against Harry’s. It’s really Harry's upper thigh, since Louis is shorter, but. Whatever.

 “Let me take you on a proper date tomorrow night. Once you get done with work.”

 Louis heart might skip a beat, he isn’t sure. A proper date. Not so casual.

 “I don’t--” he starts, but Harry spins to face him, placing both hands on his shoulders.

 “Before you say you don’t know, just. Okay. I like you, and I -- I want to like give it a try. If it doesn’t work or you feel too weird, we’ll go back to normal and never speak of it again. But--”

 “I just don’t want to fuck things up for her. Or your job. Or my sanity,” Louis blurts out, closing his eyes.

 Harry chuckles and squeezes Louis’s shoulders gently. “I get it, seriously. But I’m not, like, going anywhere. I took this job because I wanted the job, not because you have a great ass,” Louis scoffs but Harry continues, “and-- If it works out, it’ll be great. If it doesn’t work out, either I’ll stay and it’ll still be great or you’ll find someone else and they’ll be great, too. Olivia is the best, you wouldn't have trouble finding someone to love her.”

 Louis looks up at Harry for a long moment before smiling softly. “One dinner and if it’s too weird we’ll still-- we’ll be okay?”

 “Promise.” Harry says quietly, giving Louis’ shoulders a final squeeze before dropping his hands to his side. “Don’t know how it’ll be weird though, you’ve already had your tongue in my mouth.”

 Louis squawks and swats at Harry’s chest, both of them laughing.

 “Classy,” he murmurs, throwing Harry a wink before Olivia comes running up to them, cotton candy in hand.

 Louis raises an eyebrow at Niall, who is running behind her, out of breath.

 “Damn, she’s a fast one. Like a tiny mouse.” He pants, putting his hands on his knees.

 Louis chuckles, nabbing a piece of the cotton candy. Olivia whines, but stops abruptly when Louis gives her a stern look. “Should you even be eating cotton candy before dinner, little miss?”

 “No,” she kicks at the ground, “but Miss Niall gave it to me!”

 “Oi! Throwin’ me under the bus, babe,” Niall laughs and give Louis an apologetic look. “Sorry, mate. I can’t resist cotton candy.”

 Louis rolls his eyes, “That’s alright, Ni. We’ll let you get back to your special alone time, we’re gonna head out now anyway.”

 Niall smiles, giving them each a hug before promising to come over the next weekend for another try at the Barbie Horse Adventures game. Louis isn’t so sure that it’s for Olivia’s sake anymore when he sees the fire in Niall’s eyes at the mention of The Game. It’s somewhat terrifying. 

Louis carries Olivia, handing over the cotton candy to Harry, while they walk to the front of the aquarium.

“Ols,” Louis whispers. She grunts in response, clearly in desperate need of a nap after a long day of walking around the aquarium. Louis can relate. “I think you’re gonna stay with Uncle Zaynie tomorrow night, okay?”

“Yayyyy!” she responds weakly, before her head starts to loll on Louis’ shoulder.

She is getting entirely too big to be carried like this everywhere, Louis thinks.

“Really?” Harry asks, his eyes glimmering when he looks at Louis.

“I guess,” he shrugs casually, laughing when Harry pumps his fist in the air victoriously.

 Louis could maybe get used to feeling like some sort of prize, just maybe.

 ++

 It’s 6:40 and Louis cannot figure out what to wear.

 Harry will be at Zayn’s apartment to pick him up for their date in less than 30 minutes and he is standing in Zayn’s bedroom wearing nothing but black briefs and socks. Harry had rushed back to his own apartment when Louis got home from work, promising to be back at 7 on the dot.

Louis brought his outfit choices to Zayn’s an hour ago in a rush, fresh out of the shower with Olivia’s overnight bag slung over his shoulder.

Olivia is sitting on Zayn’s couch, a coloring book in her lap to entertain her until Louis leaves, and Zayn’s putting brownies in the oven. Not because Liam is coming over to help him babysit, according to Zayn, but. Louis knows better. 

“Zayn,” Louis whines from the bedroom, “Zayn!”

He lays back on the bed until Zayn appears in the doorway. “Yes, princess?”

“I can’t figure out what to wear,” Louis pouts, “and stop fucking calling me that.”

Zayn groans, walking towards the bed and pulling Louis up by his arms.

“C’mon, let’s have a look at you, then.”

Louis stands, picking up a pair of jean shorts from the edge of the bed. Zayn stares at him in disgust, and Louis drops them quickly.

“Wear the tight jeans and the grey button up. The one with the black polka dots.”

Louis picks up the shirt and holds it against his body, moving towards the full-length mirror hanging on the back of Zayn’s closet door.

“You like this shirt?”

 “Yeah, looks good on you, Lou. Nice and tight.”

 “Oh, bite me,” Louis spits out, dropping the shirt to his side.

 “Just say the word,” Zayn says, slapping Louis’ ass and winking before throwing an arm around his neck. “Seriously, it looks good on you. Wear it.”

 Louis slides the soft material over his arms and buttons it all the way to the top. The jeans are tighter than they were the last time he wore them months ago, he realizes after he’s struggled into them, and he huffs.

 “Alright?” He turns to Zayn, who’s smiling down at his phone dopily, laying on the bed. “By the way, If you and Liam fuck with my daughter sleeping in the next room later, I swear to god--”

 “Piss off,” Zayn laughs, “I would never. Plus, he’s just coming over to hang out and he’ll probably crash in the recliner. It isn’t-- we aren’t like that.”

 “Yeah, okay,” Louis mutters, bending down to slip on his black vans, "but you want to be like that."

 “You look good, babe,” Zayn says, completely avoiding Louis' comment, and whistling when Louis spins to show off the outfit.

 “Promise?” Louis asks, an itching feeling creeping up the back of his throat.

 Zayn sits up to kneel on the end of the bed, pulling Louis closer by his shoulders, and smooths down the peter pan collar of his shirt.

 “Promise,” he reaches up to tuck away a stray hair protruding from Louis’ perfectly stIyled quiff.“I’m so happy you’re doing this, Lou.”

 Louis smiles at Zayn, “Me too. Thanks for telling me not to be a twat.”

 “Somebody had to.”

Louis shoves Zayn’s shoulder, making him fall flat on his back. He laughs, crinkles forming at the corners of his eyes, and he rolls over slowly to stand up from his bed. It’s when Louis is spraying himself with cologne that there’s a knock on the door. Olivia squeals from the living room, and Louis can vaguely hear the pitter patter of her tiny feet on the hardwood floor.

Zayn gasps, “It’s your prince!” 

Louis hates Zayn, really, he cannot stress it enough.

Zayn ducks away from the bottle of cologne that Louis chucks at him, laughing while he walks out of the bedroom.

Okay. Louis can do this. He can.

He hears Zayn and Olivia greet Harry excitedly, and he takes a deep breath. He steps out of the bedroom, his eyes immediately zoning in on the tall, beautiful boy standing in the entryway of the apartment.

Louis’ mouth is wide open, he knows, and his eyes are probably shooting tiny animated hearts out of them, or maybe rockets, but he simply does not care. 

Harry looks-- he looks _dashing_ , which is a word Louis never thought he’d use in reference to a 21 year old.

He’s wearing dark jeans as usual, clinging tightly to his thin legs, with a black belt. His tucked-in shirt is simple and white with clear buttons, fastened to the very top, just like Louis’. His dark green blazer is open, with two large black buttons and a small pocket on each side, and the sleeves are the perfect length.

Louis’ eyes drop to Harry’s feet, noticing that he’s wearing grey dress shoes instead of his normal converse, and Louis makes a mental note to ask him where he got them later.

“Hi--” Louis’ voice comes out low and gravelly and, god, that’s embarrassing. He clears his throat, “Hi.”

Zayn laughs under his breath, rolling his eyes as he walks past Louis to the living room with Olivia.

“Reel it in,” he whispers, nudging Louis from behind.

Louis has felt like a 14 year old with a crush many times when it comes to Harry Styles, but this moment takes the cake. His lungs are not taking in any air, he’s sure of it.

“Hi, Lou,” Harry says finally, smirking and pulling him into a hug once he’s close enough, “you look nice.”

“Thanks, uh,” Louis pulls back, smiling up at him, “you too.”

“Jesus,” Zayn breathes out.

Louis glares back at him, opening his mouth to tell him to shut up when he feels a hand patting his thigh. He looks down to find Olivia gazing up at him with wide eyes.

“What is it, bug?” he asks, reaching down to smooth down her unruly curls. Zayn loves Olivia’s hair, and he runs his hands through it constantly. It looks like a giant afro afterwards, but Olivia doesn’t seem to mind.

“You two look fancy,” She whispers, shifting her eyes between Louis and Harry. Harry chuckles, glancing down at Louis before picking up Olivia and settling her on his hip.

“We’re going to dinner while you stay with Zaynie and Leeyum, remember?”

“Oh yeah,” she giggles, poking at Harry’s dimple before turning to look at Louis. “Hey, Da!”

Louis sighs, “Yes, bug?”

She motions for Louis to come closer, and he leans forward, cupping a hand to his ear dramatically.

“You gotta kiss him before midnight so that he doesn’t turn into a pumpkin,” she whispers, louder than she probably intended to. Louis chokes on air, or maybe the lump that just formed in his throat, and Zayn cackles wildly from his place on the couch.

“Uh,” Louis sends Harry a frantic look, and steps back “I don’t think it works like that, Olivia.”

Harry is suppressing his laughter, Louis can tell, and Olivia is waving her finger angrily at Louis.

“No, Daddy. He is a cucumber, and I want him to stay that way. Don’t let him turn into a pumpkin.”

Louis is going to have to review the movies his daughter has been watching, apparently. He’s fairly certain that’s not how any of the fairy tales go, from what he can remember.

Not that this is a fairy tale or anything.

“Got it, Olive,” Harry nods, placing Olivia back on her feet.

Louis looks up at the ceiling and sighs again. When, exactly, his life became one huge cliche, he honestly isn’t sure

“C’mon Lou, reservation’s at 7:30.” Harry says after Louis has gone over The Rules for the hundredth time with Zayn. Olivia will sleep on the pull out couch at Zayn's for the night, and Louis will come by in the morning to take her to school.

Harry places his hand on the small of Louis’ back, leading him out the door, while Zayn smiles after them fondly and waves.

Louis will be fine. Totally fine.

“So,” he asks once they step out of the apartment building, “where are we going?”

“Thought we could go to Luna Nuova. I kinda remembered that you liked Italian food and I-- why are you looking at me like that?” Harry stops walking and smiles down at Louis.

Louis didn’t realize that he had been staring at Harry with his mouth open, but. Jesus.

“That place is really nice, H. I thought we would just go to, like, get pizza or something,” he waves his hand around, gesturing at nothing in particular.

Harry giggles and shrugs. “I wanted to take you somewhere good.”

Louis stares at him even after Harry smiles sheepishly and turns to continue walking. “Huh,” Louis says quietly to himself, before picking up his feet and following Harry to his car.

++

“How’s the bread?” Harry asks, fiddling with the napkin next to his plate.

Louis looks up at him, smirking. “‘s good. Best bread I’ve ever had,” he says cheekily.

“Shut up.” Harry laughs, wiping his palms on his pants under the table.

Louis watches him for a moment, and notes the way he picks up his butter knife before looking between the butter and his bread 3 times, ultimately putting the knife back down.

“You okay?” Louis asks, once the waitress has finally brought their drinks.

Louis sips at his water while he peers at Harry over the top of his glass. He would have liked to dabble in the long wine list on the menu, but. Louis thinks that alcohol is better left untouched tonight.

 “Yeah, I’m great. Why, are you okay?” Harry asks, concern suddenly evident on his face.

Louis wants to laugh, really, because Harry is _nervous,_ finally,and it’s probably the most endearing thing he’s ever seen.

“Yeah, Haz,” Louis smiles sweetly, putting his glass down, “you just seem nervous.”

Louis knows Harry pretty well by now, he thinks. He knows that he likes to eat cut up hot dogs in his kraft dinner (disgusting), that he puts his left shoe on before the right every single time, that he laughs the hardest when Louis isn’t even trying to be funny, and that his middle name is Edward, not Leonardo.

What he doesn’t know, however, is how to be on a date with this boy. A real, proper date with this beautiful and wonderfully nervous boy.

Harry is smiling down at his plate now, and he glances up at Louis through his eyelashes. “Just a bit.”

“Me too. If I’m honest,” Louis laughs nervously, “it feels sorta weird.” Harry raises his eyebrows and Louis sputters, “No, not, like -- fuck. Not bad weird. Just. It’s. A date.”

Harry blushes and takes a sip of his water, wiping at his mouth when some of it dribbles down his chin. Louis follows his movement, licking at his bottom lip without thinking. It’s becoming a Thing, Louis thinks.

“What is wrong with us?” Harry laughs again, “It’s like we’ve never been around each other.”

They’re both laughing now, and it feels like the tension at the dinner table has been cut. Louis feels like his heart hasn’t slowed down since Harry walked into his apartment 30 minutes ago, but he’s gotten used to an irregular heartbeat having Harry around. Almost.

“So, Harold” Louis says dramatically once the waitress has come and gone, taking their food order back to the kitchen, “tell me about yourself.”

“What is this, a blind date now?”

Louis huffs and glares at Harry, who sighs. “Well, what do you want to know that you don’t already?”

Louis hums thoughtfully, picking at a piece of bread and spreading butter on it. “Tell me more about your family.”

Harry lights up, and Louis congratulates himself on breaking the ice, especially when he feels like his throat is closing up and his heart is going to pound out of his chest.

“I’ve told you a little bit, but,” Harry swallows his mouthful of bread before continuing, “I’ve got a sister, Gemma. People used to ask if we’re twins, but she’s older. Actually,” he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his phone, “that’s Gem.”

Harry turns the screen around to show Louis. It’s his lockscreen, the background picture being one of Harry and who is apparently Gemma. The older girl is sitting on Harry’s lap, holding a cup of tea, and Harry is absolutely beaming, his long arms wrapped around her waist.

“That’s from, uh,” Harry turns the phone to look at it quickly, his brows furrowing together, “like 3 weeks ago. Remember when I went home that one weekend?”

Louis hums, “Yeah, for your mum’s birthday?”

Louis almost cringes that he remembers that, but Harry smiles, so. He counts it as a point for him on the First Date score sheet.

“Yeah, that’s it. Mum had the whole damn family over for tea and all that. Me and Gemma snuck off after 3 long hours and hid out in the playhouse in the backyard,” Harry giggles.

 “She still lives in Holmes Chapel with your mum?” Louis asks, taking the phone in his hands to look at the picture more closely.

 Harry was right, they look like they could be twins. Gemma’s lips are much like Harry’s, full and beautiful. Her hair is dark, twisted into some sort of messy braid draping across her shoulder, with dark eyebrows and eyelashes. She’s beautiful, which Louis thinks isn’t surprising in the least bit.

 “Nah,” Harry picks up another piece of bread, bringing  his knife to the butter plate, “she goes to school in London too. She visits home pretty often like me though, ‘cause Mum gets lonely. Something about an empty nest. It’s just her and Robin there now.” Harry looks up abruptly, locking eyes with Louis, and laughs quietly, “Robin’s nest.”

 Louis rolls his eyes, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling, because, _honestly_.

“Your mum got remarried?” Louis asks, and Harry nods. “Mine too. Well,” he looks up at the ceiling, “she hasn’t yet. But, like, they practically are. Her and Dan are engaged at least.”

Harry laughs, “Yeah, that’s how mine were too. They’ve been together since I was little, but they just got married last year.”

Louis nods understandingly. His mother hadn’t been with Dan for very long, but before that she had been married to Mark, who had been Louis’ dad more than his own biological father. He misses Mark, sometimes.

“You have sisters don’t you?” Harry asks, after he glances quickly at a waiter carrying a tray of food. Louis stomach is growling, and his mouth is watering thinking about the dinner he ordered.

“Yeah, 4 little brats,” he rolls his eyes exaggeratedly before smiling, “Lottie’s the oldest, then Fizzy. The twins are the youngest, Phoebe and Dasiy. Back in Doncaster.”

“No wonder you’re so good with Olivia.” Harry smiles fondly, and Louis probably blushes all the way down to his neck.

“I wasn’t always. I had a lot of horrible father moments in the first year,” he sighs, “ah, good times.”

Harry kicks his leg out at Louis under the table, locking it around Louis’ ankle after Louis laughs and moves his foot away. Harry doesn’t try to untangle their legs, but Louis can’t say that he minds all that much.

“I know this is like, our first date,” Louis gestures between them, “but I hope you know that I’m going to tear into that risotto when it gets put in front of me.”

Harry laughs brightly, tossing his head back. Louis didn’t realize that he’d said something funny.

“It’s okay,” Harry shifts, dragging his foot up Louis’ pant leg briefly before wrapping it back around his ankle, “I know how well-mannered you usually are.” He winks.

“How very dare you,” Louis feigns, “you’re doing a horrible job at swooning me, I have to tell you.”

Harry tosses his head back again, clapping a hand against his chest, “Oh, am I? Tell me, Lou, how to swoon you.”

Louis laughs, biting into another piece of bread, and shakes his head. 

“Go on, tell me.” Harry looks at Louis expectantly.

“Well first, you have to be a doctor--”

“Louis.” Harry says, a smile pulling at his lips.

Louis thinks that he quite likes the way his name sounds when it’s escaping Harry’s lips, which are a nice shade of Nervously Bitten Red tonight.

“If I tell you, that takes all the fun out of it,” Louis pouts, batting his eyelashes at Harry.

Harry shakes his head and smiles, opening his mouth to say something but gets cut off by the food arriving.

Louis’ eyes nearly fall out of his skull when he gets a look at his plate. He wasn’t even totally sure what he ordered, some sort of risotto with asparagus. Whatever it is, it looks and smells heavenly. Harry got some sort of pasta and a salad, which doesn’t surprise Louis, and hums appreciatively after the waitress puts down both of their plates and walks away.

“Looks good.” Louis picks up his fork and digs in immediately. He stirs his food around, getting a large forkful of rice and vegetables and putting it into his mouth.

“Oh my god,” he groans around his mouthful of food, closing his eyes.

Harry clears his throat, and Louis opens his eyes to see that Harry is looking down at his plate, moving the food around quickly.

“Good, then?” Harry asks, his voice low.

Louis smirks. He feels like groaning again, maybe adding a quick lick of his lips, partly because the food really is that delicious, but mainly because it makes Harry blush wildly. He hasn’t felt like he’s been in any sort of control since this whole Thing started, and he’s going to take advantage of it.

"Very good.” Louis smiles, waiting for Harry to take a bite before adding, “It’s like an orgasm in my mouth.”

Harry’s eyes widen, and he brings his hand up to his mouth, coughing spastically. He swallows finally and brings his glass of water to his lips.

Louis raises one eyebrow, “You okay, Harry? Food go down the wrong way?”

Louis is a little shit sometimes, he knows. Whatever.

Harry glares at him over the top of his glass, and he coughs a few more times after setting the glass back down on the table.

“You’re--,” Harry laughs, “not fair.”

Louis hums and smiles innocently, shovelling another bite into his mouth and chewing slowly. “Don’t know what you’re talking about, really.”

Harry rolls his eyes and Louis laughs. It’s more of a giggle, really, and Louis thinks that maybe Harry is rubbing off on him.

“How is yours?” he asks after they’ve been eating for a moment.

“Good,” Harry swallows. “I think we should get milkshakes after dinner.”

Louis chews slowly, a smile creeping onto his face. “Harry, we literally just started eating.”

Harry rolls his eyes again, “I know, I’m just saying. I know a good place, like, right around the corner. If you want, I mean.”

“What’s your favorite flavor of milkshake? This is a deal breaker, obviously,” Louis deadpans.

Harry breathes deeply a few times dramatically, closing his eyes and putting a hand to his chest. Louis is so enamored  by Harry that it’s hard to breathe, a bit.

“Peanut butter.”

Harry is literally the worst.

“You are literally the worst,” Louis says, grimacing. “That is the grossest flavor, period. I can’t believe this. Looks like you better take me home, mate,” he shrugs. Harry pouts, pulling his legs away from Louis’ underneath the table. And no, Louis will not stand for that. He just won’t.

“Oh shut up, you,” Louis smirks, wrapping his legs around Harry’s ankles instead. Harry beams, picking up his fork again and taking a huge bite.

“This has been nice, yeah?” He asks Louis after a few minutes of eating and small conversations.

Louis looks up at Harry, who seems more nervous than he did at the beginning of their dinner. It’s strange, Louis thinks, seeing Harry squirm and be unsure of himself. With Olivia he’s confident and unabashedly himself. He’s still himself, the same Harry, but he’s different somehow. He’s softer with Louis. Like he’s scared that if he breathes too hard or speaks too loudly, Louis will flutter away. 

“Really nice, yeah,” Louis smiles, and locks his legs tighter around Harry’s. “I haven’t done this in forever, really.”

“Me neither,” Harry absolutely beams, “not to be cheesy, but I’ve been waiting for this for a while. I’m really glad you gave me a chance.”

And it is cheesy. It’s cheesy as hell, but that doesn’t stop the blush from creeping up Louis’ neck. He’s a romantic, sue him.

“Me too, Haz.”

It feels suddenly like the climax of a romantic-comedy, Louis thinks, where the hero has finally snagged the heroine (or in this case, the other hero), and this is That Moment. The big turn of events. This is when it either goes forward and it’s all great and magical and there are fireworks. Or it’s when it crumbles and everything turns to shit. People will either leave the theater with happy tears streaming down their face, wearing smiles and telling their friends how in love these two are, how obvious it is. That, or they’ll leave mad as hell, with nothing to hold onto but an ambiguous and sad ending, wondering why these two morons couldn’t just pull themselves together and make it work.

Louis chews slowly at his last few bites of food, making flirty eyes at Harry across the table. Harry has unbuttoned the top of his shirt, the very top of his tattoos peeking out against his tan skin.

“So, milkshakes then,” Louis says with a sense of finality once they’ve finished eating. Harry smiles brightly, so bright that Louis feels like he should turn away.

He’s a sucker for a happy ending.

++

“Jesus fucking Christ, this is amazing,” Harry says, slurping greedily at the last of his  large milkshake. Louis nods and hums in response, sipping happily at his own. He got a peanut butter and chocolate milkshake, to humor Harry, and it might not be totally disgusting. Whatever.

They’re at Louis’ apartment building now, both of them tossing their empty cups into the trash bin at the entrance. They ride the elevator up, their arms barely even brushing, but it’s so charged, how could it not be? Everything is all first dates and high school crushes and firsts, a lot of firsts.

When they pass Zayn’s apartment, they both look at the door instinctively, and Louis is almost positive that the same thoughts of worry are running through Harry’s head. Which is-- it’s nice, really.

“So,” Louis whispers once they’re standing at his own apartment's door. He doesn’t have a Welcome mat like Harry does, and there are constant footprints trailing through his kitchen like it's the scene of a crime. He should get one. Maybe he’ll ask Harry for advice on the best place to buy a doormat, since he must know.

 “I like you,” Harry grins, like it’s the most natural thing in the world to say.

Louis thinks that maybe it is.

He rolls his eyes, because his only cover is to joke about things, he honestly can’t stop himself. He smiles dopily despite himself, and shoves lightly at Harry’s chest. “I like you too, you idiot.”

And then Harry’s hand is on top of his, keeping it against his chest, and he’s looking at him, looking at Louis like he’s the greatest prize in the world. Louis needs to lie down. Or have a drink. Or a cigarette. He doesn’t even smoke, but Harry Styles makes him need a lot of things, a lot of things he didn’t even know he wanted.

Harry walks forward slowly, giving Louis enough time to react. Which, he does not, maybe because he physically cannot move, or maybe because he isn’t an idiot.

“I like you,” Harry repeats quietly, maybe to himself, but his lips are on Louis’ before he can get any sort of response.

This kiss is different than their first, it’s familiar. Which is crazy, Louis thinks, because this is still new - a first date, a first kiss after a first date. But it feels like something he’s done for months, years maybe, like it’s what he should’ve been doing this whole time.

Harry kisses him just as slow as the first time, a smile still tugging at the corners of his mouth. He brings a hand up to cup Louis’ jaw, his large hand almost covering the entirety of the side of Louis’ cheek. Louis leans up into the kiss, standing on his tip-toes, and Harry wraps a long arm around his waist.

It’s a goodnight kiss, probably, but Louis feels like it's really only a greeting. A start, not an end.

Harry pulls back, a bit reluctantly. Louis thinks it’s reluctant, at least, but maybe that’s just wishful thinking. Harry’s grinning, and leaning in again to place a quick kiss on Louis’ lips. It feels so different now, like things went from 0 to 60 in two days, which. They did, really. It shouldn’t feel this easy, Louis knows, but with Harry it does, and he isn’t going to question  it.

He means to say he had a lovely night, he means to give Harry a quick kiss on the cheek and remain at least a little bit Smart about Harry Styles, he really does.

“Do you wanna come in?” is what comes out instead, which is almost as good, he guesses.

 Harry follows him into the apartment, and Louis’ skin is on fire in all of the places that Harry was just touching him, his lips absolutely vibrating with the memory of the kiss and with the anticipation of another. 

 “Want a drink or something?” He asks once he’s in the kitchen, clearing his throat and turning around, expecting to be met with an answer from Harry.

He’s met instead with Harry’s hands on his hips and a pair of lips on his own, and that’s-- well, that’s alright too. He staggers a bit, kissing Harry back before getting his footing. Harry grips his hips tighter, holding him steady and spinning him so that his back is to the refrigerator. Louis thinks absently that he should lock the door, because if he knows Zayn, which he does, he’ll come in without knocking later, leaving Olivia with Liam so that he can ask how their date was. Louis can’t be bothered with the front door right now though, not with Harry’s hand snaking around to rest on the small of his back, his fingertips grazing at the small bit of skin exposed there.

“Hi,” Harry pulls back slightly to mumble against Louis’ lips, and Louis thinks it’s a silly thing to say right now, but he just mumbles hi back and kisses him again.

Harry pulls back again, giggling this time, and looks down at Louis. “This is okay?”

Louis rolls his eyes and huffs, “Obviously.”

Harry stifles a laugh and reaches out to push Louis’ fringe back, “I’m just. You know. I don’t want to rush anything with you. I know we’re just testing the waters.”

“The water feels fine,” Louis spits out.

Harry smirks. “That was pretty lame.”

Harry Styles, the king of bad jokes and all things corny, just called him lame. A true plot twist if there ever was one.

Louis doesn’t have a comeback, because Harry makes his head feel fuzzy and his reactions are slower, maybe. So he just kisses him, which Harry doesn’t seem to mind.

He puts his hands flat against Harry’s chest, gingerly at first, but quickly fists Harry’s shirt in his hands, pulling him closer. Harry doesn’t have to be persuaded twice, and he crowds Louis against the fridge, Louis’ back hitting the hard surface, an _oomph_ escaping his lips. The magnets poke and prod at his back and ass, but Harry’s hand comes up to hold the back of his head to keep it from hitting the freezer door. He places the other hand on Louis’ hip, pressing him back against the fridge, and Louis is gone, he’s already so gone for this boy.

Harry’s takes his mouth off of Louis’, and Louis already misses his lips, leaning back in to kiss him until Harry lowers his mouth, placing light kisses against Louis’ jaw instead. He kisses his neck, letting his lips and tongue move slowly on the hot skin, and Louis feels like Harry’s lips are dancing across where his skin is tingling. He cards a hand through Harry’s hair, and this feels like a lot to deal with, it feels like the time when he should be freaking out, but this. It feels like the most calm thing that’s ever happened to him, and the most thrilling all at once.

“I totally got off in that bathroom.” Harry moves up slowly to breathe into Louis’ ear.

Louis moves his hands to the hem of Harry’s shirt, pulling at it slightly before pausing when Harry's words register.

“I’m sorry, what?” He asks, pulling back from Harry, his head thumping against the fridge, and Harry is smirking now.

“The night we went to the club. ‘member how I went to the bathroom after we stopped dancing? Totally had a wank.” He leans back and shrugs, like it’s no big deal that he got off in a public bathroom.

"What-- why?” Louis thinks that Harry should be embarrassed to admit this, or at the very least be concerned that he’s ruining the Mood, but he, of course, seems to be neither of those things.

He just looks amused. Louis doesn’t know why he’s shocked, really.

“Have you seen your arse?” Harry shrugs again, and then he’s moving closer, so much closer, and Louis stows this moment away in his mind's vault of Things to ask him later. Definitely later, because Harry’s kissing him again, but this time it’s needy, almost desperate, and Louis is so here for that.

“Harry,” he whispers, throaty and coming out a lot like a groan, as soft lips move to trail to his ear, where Harry nips at his earlobe quickly before moving lower on his neck. Harry brings a hand up to pop the two top buttons on Louis shirt, and Louis gasps quietly when the other hand lowers from the small of his back to grab his ass. He should have known that Harry would be the most confident in these situations, when there’s heat and when things are moving at a mile a minute.

“Can I suck you off? Please?” Harry mouths against  Louis’ neck, and Louis’ knees buckle so fast that he honestly almost falls to the ground. _Jesus Christ._

Harry Styles might actually kill him. He turns his eyes to the ceiling and counts to 5, not wanting to sound eager.

“Yeah-- Please, yeah.”

Louis only makes it to 3. The ‘please’ puts a damper on his plan of not sounding too eager, and so does the choked off sound that comes out before he responds, but.

Harry smirks against Louis’ neck, he can feel it, but then he’s placing feather light kisses down Louis’ neck while he unbuttons his shirt. His fingers are working so slow, so agonizingly slow, and Louis is about to lose his mind. He rolls his hips up once, connecting with Harry in all the right places, and both of them groan quietly. Louis’ might sound a bit like a whimper, even. Harry moves faster after that, feeling how hard Louis is against him, and he moves his mouth against Louis’ collarbones, gripping at his hips like he doesn’t want to let go. He sinks lower and lower, littering kisses down Louis’ bare torso, setting his skin on fire.

 Louis looks down when Harry finally settles on his knees, and this is crazy, honestly. Harry’s eyes are glassy, and he’s looking up at Louis asking a question that he doesn’t need to ask. His lips, his goddamn lips, are so red and slick where he’s running his tongue over them, like he’s been waiting for this just as long as Louis has, and maybe he has. Harry's lips are the root of all of this, really, and they're so plump from kissing and so, so _close._ Louis rolls his hips up a bit, just enough to nudge at Harry’s chin, and he laughs quietly.

“Eager,” Harry winks, bringing a hand up to unbutton Louis’ jeans.

His plan of nonchalance was a noble one, at least.

Harry gets Louis’ jeans undone, pushing them down and letting Louis step out of them quickly before kicking the tangled ball of denim to the side. Louis lets his head fall back on the cold surface of the refrigerator door, gripping Harry’s shoulder to keep himself steady. Even though he’s leaning back against something, he feels like he could slide down the smooth surface at any moment, knees giving out under the incredible force that is Harry Styles mouthing at his hard cock through his pants, breathing out so hotly that Louis can feel it through the fabric. If there were ever a moment in his life that he’d like to record and playback in his mind for a very long time, this would be it.

“Harry,” Louis groans again, not even sure he knows any words beyond Harry’s name in this moment, but Harry seems to understand. Louis glances down to see Harry press the heel of his hand against his own dick, clearly hard and straining against his tight jeans. Louis’ eyes almost roll back into his head at that image, at Harry being just as into this as he is, and he groans loudly when Harry pulls down his briefs slowly and mouths against his cock with no fabric in between them this time.

Louis grunts, bringing a hand to run through Harry’s hair, pushing it up and into a floppy quiff on top of his head so that he can see Harry’s eyelashes fanning against his cheeks and his lips, his perfectly soft lips, moving to the tip of his dick that is already leaking precome.

His tongue darts out at it quickly, and Louis moans, maybe a bit louder than he wanted to, but it seems to encourage Harry, because he takes him down in one swift motion. Louis’s head falls back on the fridge again, and he grips at the side, his arm knocking off a handful of magnets. Harry’s tongue is doing something amazing, Louis isn’t even sure what it is, and he’s moving quickly now, using one hand to work the base of Louis’ cock. Louis is letting out needy little breaths, moaning quietly every time Harry’s tongue swivels around the tip right before taking him down fully until his nose is pressing against Louis’ skin. Louis thinks that this is maybe like the end of the movie, where there are actual fireworks and everyone is cheering because, god, it’s finally happening.

He looks down to see that Harry has gotten his own jeans undone at some point, and has a hand working at himself through his briefs. Louis grabs his shoulder, “Har--, don’t. Wait. I got you. Just--” he says in between small grunts, cut off by Harry pressing his nose against his skin again, staying there for an amount of time that Louis thinks is going to make his own head explode. He moans, pushing his hips up from the fridge without meaning to, and Harry chokes a bit around him but doesn’t pull off. He looks up at Louis when he goes down again. Louis locks eyes with him, his pupils blown wide and a look that seems to be saying a lot of things that are swimming around in his own brain, and that’s it, Louis is gone. He chokes out a quick warning, letting his head fall back and gripping Harry’s shoulder as he comes, fast and so hard that he swears that he sees white.

Harry swallows it all down, his eyes prickling with tears as Louis finishes, breathing heavily through his nose. He mouths at Louis until he’s too sensitive and he has to tug at Harry’s hair a bit, Harry pulling off with an exaggerated pop. He looks up at Louis smugly, and Louis wants to ravage every single part of him.

Harry stands, kissing Louis’ mouth immediately, greedily, like he’s missed his lips in the short amount of time that he was preoccupied elsewhere. Louis moans into the kiss, tasting himself on Harry’s tongue, and he wraps his arms around Harry’s neck. He squeaks when Harry grabs at the back of his thighs, pulling them to wrap around his torso, and carries him to the bedroom. The bedroom, Louis thinks, right. That would’ve been a good place to start, really, but.

“Hi,” Harry mumbles against his lips again, and, _honestly_.

“Hi yourself,” Louis whispers back, despite how ridiculous it is, biting at Harry’s lower lip and running his tongue over it.

Harry kneels on the foot of the bed, still carrying Louis, and then lowers him until his head is hitting the pillow. Harry settles himself over him, his hands resting just next to Louis’ shoulders, and he brings his face down to kiss Louis, a lot slower now than it had been in the kitchen, and Louis practically moans just at the feeling of Harry’s lips against his again. They kiss lazily for a few minutes, but it might as well be hours, if you ask Louis. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever get tired of this, or if he’ll ever even have the chance to. But, right now, he can’t get enough.

He reaches up to move his thin fingers against Harry’s buttons, unbuttoning his shirt and pushing it off his shoulders quickly. Harry tosses it to the ground, and he isn’t wearing an undershirt, of course he isn’t, and his pants are still half hanging off of his ass.

Louis’ hand trails down Harry’s chest, tracing the tattoos there, and moves slowly down his chiseled abs.

“Hi,” Harry whispers into the dark again, and Louis thinks that he might be the most endearing person to ever exist. Louis doesn’t respond, just moves his hand to reach into the back of Harry’s jeans, which are now almost sliding off completely, and grabs his ass.

Harry growls, actually growls, and leans down to kiss at Louis more eagerly. Louis smiles into the kiss, mumbling a quick “Oops,” against Harry’s moving mouth, before pushing Harry’s jeans off completely. Harry maneuvers a bit until he’s shimmied out of the jeans completely, kicking them off so that they land in a pile with his shirt. Louis thinks that they’ll be completely wrinkled later, but. He doesn’t think that Harry much cares about that.

Louis slides a hand around to Harry’s front, teasing at the top of his waistband before moving slowly to stroke Harry’s hard cock over the fabric of his pants. Harry groans quietly into Louis’ mouth, and Louis cannot believe that this boy is here, much less reacting to his touch this way. Harry rocks his hips down, only barely, pushing against Louis’ hand. Louis looks up at him and quirks an eyebrow, as if to say “Who’s eager now?”.

Harry huffs, smiling down at him, and it’s another smile like he can’t believe Louis is real. Louis isn’t totally sure that he is real in this moment, he feels almost like he’s floating, and he returns the smile, maybe a bit too wide. Louis brings both hands up, sliding them under the waistband of Harry’s briefs to push them down slowly, letting Harry work his way out of them once he gets them to mid-thigh. Harry steps off the bed for a minute and lets the black briefs drop to his ankles, stepping out of them and shuffling back onto the bed. Louis gets a good once-over of his body in the dim light coming in from the living room, and Harry is-- well, he’s beautiful. It isn’t surprising, it’s just a lot to take in. He’s all tan skin and black ink and muscle and Louis just wants to touch every inch of him.

So he does. He runs his hands down Harry’s torso, letting one hand wrap around to run up his back and scratch lightly at the warm skin with blunt fingernails. Harry takes his lower lip in between his teeth and breathes out through his nose, kissing Louis like it’s the first time he’s been able to all night. Louis’ other hand trails down lower until he passes the rough patch of hair, finally wrapping around Harry's dick fully, and he sighs into the kiss. Harry pushes into Louis’ hand gently, and Louis lets him work himself into his fist a few times while he lets the precome slick him up enough that it isn’t completely dry.

“You’re so gorgeous,” Harry mumbles quietly, and Louis isn’t even totally sure he hears him correctly until he repeats it again, a bit lower.  He kisses Harry, letting his tongue push into Harry’s mouth eagerly, needing to taste, needing to be closer somehow.

“Do you want--” Louis starts, when he’s kissing down Harry’s neck a moment later.

"Just--,” Harry shakes his head, “just kiss me. Stay.”

Louis can’t argue with that, really, so he does. Stay, that is. He takes his hand away from Harry to reposition, but Harry keeps rocking forward, missing the friction. Louis is half hard again, and everything aligns perfectly when Harry rolls his hips, and they both groan into each other’s mouth at the contact.

“Yeah,” Harry breathes, “Yeah, okay.”

Louis head is spinning, it might be physically spinning, he honestly isn’t sure. He bites at Harry’s jaw, grabbing at his ass again to pull him even closer.

“Hold on, I--” Louis reaches into the nightstand without moving from underneath Harry, rustling around for a second before pulling out a tiny bottle of lube. He motions for Harry to hold out his hand, and he does, letting Louis squirt a generous amount into his palm. Harry seems to understand enough, he probably always understands what Louis is thinking, and he uses his hand to slick up both of their cocks. He takes his hand away once they’re both good, and this helped, Louis was right. He’s fully hard now, the lube helping them to slide against each other in the most perfect way, Harry rolling his hips quicker now. Harry is breathing heavily into Louis’ mouth, kissing and biting and it’s almost too much, their teeth clanking together at times. But it’s them, Louis thinks, it’s exciting and it’s new and, god, does it feel good.

“You close?” Louis asks, because he sure as hell is, and he doesn’t want to finish before Harry, making them 2 and 0.

“Mmm,” Harry hums in response, sucking at Louis’ neck. Louis lifts his hips from the bed just in the slightest, changing the angle and making Harry moan loudly.

“Jesus, Lou,” Harry breathes against Louis’ lips, and then he’s coming in hot spurts onto Louis’ stomach and chest, with an expression that looks almost sinful, and that’s all it takes, really, for Louis to follow right behind him. It’s different than before - the first orgasm hit him like a train, all at once and too much and bright lights. This one starts like a wave deep in his stomach, then crashes through his entire body, his skin tingling and toes curling. He’s nearly shaking with it, and Harry kisses his face, covering every inch of skin with light brushes of his lips.

Harry leans up when they’ve both had a second to catch their breath, and looks down at Louis with droopy eyes, like he’s drunk on something.

“Hi,” he says again, low enough that it sounds almost eerie in the quiet darkness of his bedroom. Louis smiles, leaning up to kiss Harry again, like it’s a natural response.

Harry's right, probably. This night _,_ Louis thinks, or maybe it’s justHarry in general - it feels a lot like _hello_.

++

When Louis wakes up the next morning, it’s to the sound of his alarm clock, but it’s also to long arms wrapped around his middle and hot breath against the back of his neck. He almost freaks out, almost, until he remembers the night before. He doesn’t want to move and wake Harry this early, if the steady breathing against his skin is any indication that Harry is still in a deep sleep. But. He has to piss. Like, immediately.

He slides out of Harry's arms carefully, feeling him shift behind him before he turns his face and pulls his arms into his chest in Louis’ absence. Louis sighs, because Harry is beautiful even when he’s been sleeping and his hair is a mess of curls, and rolls over to get out of bed and go to the bathroom. He’s only gone for two minutes, but when he returns, Harry is awake, eyes open barely to look at Louis.

“Morning,” Harry says, a lazy smile on his lips, reaching out his arms and making grabby hands. Louis doesn’t think anyone is allowed to be that endearingly charming in the morning.

“Mmm,” Louis hums in response, crawling back into the warm nest of blankets and sheets, fitting himself back into the circle of Harry’s arms. It’s wildly domestic all of a sudden, but it’s 6 am, which means he has work in an hour, and Louis does not give a damn.

“You don’t have to get up until you have to go to class if you want,” Louis whispers against Harry’s bare chest, closing his eyes and letting himself melt into Harry’s warmth, “I gotta get out of here though.”

Harry whines dramatically and pulls Louis against him, resting his hand at the small of Louis’ back. “You gonna get Olivia?”

“Oh shit, yeah, I almost forgot.”

“Father of the year,” Harry mumbles, and Louis darts his eyes up to see that Harry is smirking.

“You should maybe be a bit nicer to me,” Louis says, pinching Harry’s nipple.

Harry swats his hand away, giggling, “And why is that?”

Louis waggles his eyebrows, pinching Harry’s nipple again. Harry laughs, loud and child-like, and holds Louis tighter so that he can’t move his arms.

“I had a good time last night,” Harry mumbles against Louis’ hair after they settle. Louis looks up at Harry, who is smiling down at him now, and yeah. He had a good time too. It’s odd, he thinks, how this feels like something that they do every morning, like it isn’t out of the ordinary at all. But it is, it definitely is, judging by the hint of nausea and fluttering in his stomach. He doesn’t know what This is, or what it’s going to be, or what Harry is even thinking.

“So, I was thinking,” Harry says quietly when Louis doesn’t respond, and. Well.

“I’ve told you not to do that, Harold.”

“I was _thinking_ that maybe we could try this proper. Not to, like, freak you out, but. You know. Dates every week, a kiss when you get home from work, introducing you to my parents. The whole big shabang,” Harry says casually, and Louis can’t breathe.

“Harry--”

Harry chuckles quietly and presses a kiss against the side of Louis’ head. “I know. I’m just saying, things are going alright so far, yeah? And you already know that I’m not going anywhere when it comes to the job. This is just a nice bonus.” He blows a raspberry against Louis’ temple.

Louis doesn’t know where Harry even came from, really.

“And if you end up thinking I’m gross or annoying?”

Harry smiles, “I won’t. But if it’s weird, we’ll stop. And either I stay and things are fine, or you find someone else and it’s fine, like I said.”

When Harry says it, it sounds so simple. Nothing in Louis’ life has ever been simple, but he thinks that laying here in bed on a Monday morning with this boy might be the most simple thing in his life so far.

“Alright, yeah. Maybe we can--,” Louis runs a hand through his messy hair, “We’ll run it by Olivia tonight, at dinner or something. I want her to, like, be okay with it. If that’s not too weird for you.”

Harry smiles again, kissing the side of Louis’ head again before closing his eyes and laying his head back on the pillow. He looks perfectly content and Louis gets that, he thinks. Content is a good word to describe this feeling.

++

Zayn opens the door with a smug grin, and immediately leans against the door frame and crosses his arms.

“Morning, Lou,” he says slowly, the smile growing on his face.

Louis sighs. “Where’s my kid, Zayn?”

“Putting her shoes on. So!” Zayn claps, “How was your night?”

Louis glares at Zayn, looking past him to see Liam helping Olivia with her shoes on the couch.

 “I don’t know, Z, how was yours?” He asks, raising one eyebrow. Zayn deflates, turning to see what Louis is looking at.

He huffs, “I slept on the pull out bed with Olivia, he slept in my bed, and nothing happened.”

“So, not a good night, then.” Louis smirks, earning a smack in the chest. Zayn is blushing though, in a way that tells Louis there is a story that he'll badger out of him later.

“Not as good as yours, at least.”

“Nothing happened,” Louis mumbles, looking down at his feet and straightening his work shirt. Zayn knows everything before Louis tells him. It’s been that way since high school, and it’s a real pain in the ass sometimes.

Zayn snorts once before leaning towards Louis and whispering, “If you think I don’t know by now what you sound like through the wall when you’re hooking up, you’re wrong.”

Louis hates Zayn.

“C’mon, Ols, we’re gonna be late,” Louis says hurriedly, a blush creeping up his neck. He twists Zayn’s nipple once, making him squeal and laugh loudly. Zayn shakes his head and moves back to the living room, letting Olivia pass him to walk out the door. She’s wearing matching shoes, so Louis thinks Zayn did an alright job, at least.

“Hi sweetie,” he says, leaning down to kiss her forehead. Her hair is braided, Louis thinks probably Liam’s doing, and she smiles widely up at him.

“Da, I think Zaynie has a crush on Leeyum,” is the first thing she says once they’re in the car, and Louis has to bite back a smirk.

++

Harry stays for dinner that night, with a promise to make cookies with Olivia afterwards. Louis is sweating through his shirt, nervous about everything happening, mainly Harry and his sudden place in all of this. He’s never had anyone else in his life, really, except for Olivia and Zayn. She’s too young still to really grasp the concept of dating and relationships, but he thinks, or hopes, that she’ll understand this.

When they sit down at the table with dinner in front of them (courtesy of Harry - Louis thinks that maybe you can only have noodles so many times before you turn into one), Olivia is chattering away about her day at school. They eat for a few minutes, listening to her talk about a new friend, before Louis looks at Harry and raises his eyebrows, as if asking him if he’s sure. Harry smiles softly at him, winking, and. Yeah, okay.

“Hey, Ols,” Louis says when she has a mouth full of food, “I wanted to talk to you about something. A big girl talk, okay?”

Her eyes widen, and she nods enthusiastically, swallowing down her food. Louis doesn’t even-- he isn’t totally sure how to word things in a way that she’ll understand without making it seem like everything is changing. Things are staying the same, really.

“So,” he starts, looking at Harry to anchor himself, “You know that me and Cucumber are very close right?”

She nods again, smiling at Harry and giggling, and Louis feels like he’s missing something.

“Well,” he continues, giving Harry a confused look, “if it’s alright with you, we’re going to be more than friends. We like each other.”

Olivia is giggling louder, and she looks at Harry again, who is looking down at his plate and moving his food around nervously.

“I know, Daddy,” she says, turning to Louis again. She smiles widely, and Louis thinks that he is _definitely_ missing something.

Louis’ face falls, and he looks between Harry and Olivia. “What? How did you know that?”

“Well, Da, I’m 5 and very smart,” she explains, and Louis stifles a laugh, “and Cucumber tells me all his secrets.”

Louis looks up at Harry and raises an eyebrow. He’s bright red now, pointedly not looking at Louis, and giggling down at his plate. “I might have told her that I had a crush on you. But only because she told me that she had a crush on a boy at school and I was trying to make her feel better,” he explains after Louis kicks him under the table.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Harry rolls his eyes and looks at him as if to say “duh”.

Olivia tugs on Louis’ sleeve with messy hands. “And he looks at you like you’re Rapunzel.” Louis looks at her with a raised eyebrow, not following. She huffs, never amused when Louis doesn’t understand what she’s trying to say. “Cucumber looks at you like the pretty boy looked at Rapunzel in that movie.”

“Tangled?” Harry asks, and of course Harry knows that.

“Mhmm! ‘Cause he liked her so much, and it’s the same. That’s how I knew.”

Louis smiles softly at her and smooths back some of her curls, “So this is okay? Cucumber will still be with you during the day, he just might be here more after that too.”

“We can still play dress up?” she asks, worry in her eyes.

“Well, yes, but--”

“It’s okay, Daddy,” she laughs, shovelling another mouthful of chicken into her mouth.

That was, well. That was easy. Louis doesn’t know if he wants to sigh with relief or rip all of his eyelashes out one by one. This wasn’t his plan, none of this was, and none of it makes sense, if he’s honest. It doesn’t make sense that someone like Harry wants to be with someone like him, it doesn’t make sense how quickly things escalated, and it definitely doesn’t make sense that it doesn’t feel odd. It feels strangely normal, like this was what was being built-up to for months, and now that it’s here and it’s happening, this is just a natural step.

Louis looks up from his plate of food to smile at Harry, who is cutting up Olivia’s chicken the way that he knows she likes it but would never ask him to do. Louis doesn’t know where this will go, how could he, but for once in his life, he really hopes that he doesn’t fuck it up. Harry is good, almost too good to be true. Louis feels like a sappy mess, like the hero in the movie that is head over heels after a few days, which Zayn always scoffs at and calls unrealistic. The fireworks are real, he knows, and he isn’t sure he wants to look away now that he’s here. 

“‘s good, Lou?” Harry asks, a mouthful of salad and a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

And yeah, Louis thinks. It is good.

 

+

**Author's Note:**

> i really never wrote anything before this and i'm not usually a ~writer, but this sparked me to start, at least a bit (ended up writing two small Things while i wrote this monster au, so clearly i'm hooked). thank you to anyone that helped me along the way, so much.


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